Beneath the Crystal Sky
by laptop246
Summary: High quality. Read to find out more about Lavinia, Cinna, Portia, Johanna, Titus, Tigris, Blight, Annie, Finnick, their child, Mr. and Mrs. Everdeen, young Katniss and Prim, Foxface, Glimmer, Rue, Buttercup, the victors, District 13, 12, and 7, the Capitol, its technology/social interactions, the wild, mockingjays, rebellions, the 70-75th Hunger Games.Cover by Sade Harlem (figment)
1. I SCOUT

**PART I. BEGINNING.  
****CHAPTER 1. SCOUT.**

_Hey, I'm laptop246. You can call me laptop, or Selene, if you want. Now, this is a special Hunger Games fic, guys. I created this not to tell about a Hunger Game but about the life of Fawn Dogwood and of District 7. It will be a long fic, yes, with about 4,000 to 7,500 words per chapter. So buckle up and get ready for a crazy ride!_

_And now, I have the honor of introducing Fawn Dogwood, our hero, in Beneath the Crystal Sky! (BTCS)_

**~BTCS~**

I wipe the sweat from my eyes, standing still for a moment and gazing at the setting sun. I sigh and turn back to the pile of wood I have to pile into the trailer before I can leave. I resign myself to return home at 11 o'clock tonight. That may be too late to tuck Aria and Creta in bed. They hate going to sleep when no one's home ... I bend to take a piece...

"Fawn?" I turn to see Lore Alberry behind me. "You're still working? It's an early morning tomorrow."

I sigh and nod in agreement. "We're short of money right now, so I had to work over."

"Where's your mom?" Lore brushes his dark hair out of his face. He is quite handsome, with his dark hair and eyes, but it isn't like that with Lore and me. He's from my troop, which means he's a sibling, and most definitely not available.

"She's taking wood to Redwood overnight." Redwood is one of the bigger cities in District 7. Our own small town of Sawdust is on the edge of 7, where the trees still grow wild, constantly moving so that we can let the forest re-grow after we've chopped it back. We rarely return to areas that we can remember being before, which is why Lore and my own troop is so badly needed. We scout the area that Sawdust is about to move to, and chart the land, making notes about large rocks, dips in the land, bodies of water, and things like that. And, since no adults can be spared, the troop is filled of kids. It's a great way for us to get jobs that adults usually claim.

"What about your sisters?" Lore asks.

"Home alone," I confess, motioning to the pile of lumber. "I'd hoped to have this done, but ..." I shrug. "I'm a bit tired today."

Lore's eyes widen a bit. "Already? Fawn, we're going to be gone for a week and you haven't rested up?" He shakes his head. "You'll be no good tomorrow if I don't help you."

A wave of relief crashes over me. _"Would _you, Lore?" He brushes his dark hair from his eyes again, as is his habit. "What choice do I have? If I don't, you'll get yourself killed." Feigning anger, I laugh and punch his arm. He punches me back playfully and we begin to load the lumber into the trailer. With his help, it takes half the time. After I place the last piece upon the pile, I pull out the coins I got for the job and offer him a few. He quickly refuses them. "I worked extra today, too, Fawn. Keep it."

I sigh and pocket the money, knowing from experience that it's pointless to argue with him. "Thank you," I say gratefully. He smiles and gives me a quick hug before breaking away. "Get some sleep." and he's melted into the forest before I can reply.

After checking that the trailer is packed correctly, I also duck into the woods, taking the short way home through deep forest, which many people would be too frightened to do. Most days, I wouldn't risk it unarmed, but pictures of Creta and Aria home alone, worried, keep taunting me. Besides, this part of the wood is practically uninhabited because of its closeness to the Chopping Zone. In about 5 weeks, the animals will be rushing back here from our new Chopping Zone. They're used to moving, just like us.

It doesn't take long to reach the house, and I manage to do so before it's completely twilight. The house isn't much - shabby and ready to collapse, but all the homes in Sawdust are the same. In fact, they are made to be easy to dismantle and reassemble, not for appearance. We basically live outside, with no floor, four walls, and a leaking roof. Some of the houses in Redwood actually have shingles, running water, and electricity. This is unheard of in the Sawdust huts. Well, but for the Peacekeeper's lavish homes, which take wagons and wagons to move. When the Hunger Games rolls around or the Capitol needs to make an announcement, Sawdust packs up and meet other moving villages at the large screen in Redwood's square, building the houses back up outside the bustling town. But this makes me sick because the Hunger Games is only two weeks away. After I return from the scouting trip with the rest of the troop, we'll have just enough time to pack up and head to Redwood before Reaping Day. I push the thought away, because it makes me weary.

I walk through the doorway that has never known a door, placed to the east as weather comes from the west. In Redwood, all the houses have doors and face each other so that they can have proper streets. In Sawdust, we rarely see another house from our own. Placing my boots on the ground by the door, I venture about the small room, the hard-packed earth still and firm under my feet. Curtains hang to separate the bedroom from the kitchen. There's not much sitting about because it's a hassle to move around many worldly possessions.

"Anyone awake?" I peer around the curtain. A pair of wide eyes stares at me. "Fawn?" Creta's voice asks.

"Oh, Creta," I sigh, heading over to her. She and Aria use the straw mattress while Mom and I sleep on the floor around them. "You should've slept, baby." I smoothed her hair, so alike mine but curly.

"I couldn't," she whispers to me. "I was worried about you." A smile touches my face as I think of how worried I was of her. "Aria tried to stay up, too. But she waited last night, too, and ..." Creta pats her sister's shoulder gently. Aria looks nothing like Creta and I - more look Mom. She has the raven hair and firm jaw that is common to our district. Creta and I stand out with our nut brown hair and smaller noses. Mom says we look like our father, who died during one of the many, terrifying forest fires of the year. Sawdust doesn't travel to that part of the district anymore - no wood to chop.

"I'm fine," I kiss her head softly. "You should sleep now, though." I know the next words before they leave her mouth. It's our nightly routine. "I'm not tired yet. Sing me a song."

"A song?"" I feign surprise. "I don't know any songs - I can't sing!" Creta giggles and persists. Smiling, I give in,

"The sparrow calls to the squirrel to scurry right along. The sparrow calls to the Cocobolo to bend and sway with the wind.

"The sparrow is no mockingjay to sing a child to sleep. The sparrow is no kitten to toss to a chunk of wood.

"The sparrow calls to those it likes, to walk among the branches. The sparrow calls to you to see the wonder of the forest.

"The sparrow calls, 'Come with me!' Will you come? Will you fly beneath the crystal sky?"

The song's tune is soothing and its beat slow and steady, and by the end of it, Creta's eyes are sliding closed. She makes a visible effort to wake up, rubbing her eyes. "Fawn?" I smooth her curls again. "Mmmhmm?"

"Wake me up tomorrow morning," she yawns. "I want to say goodbye. A week's an awfully ... long ..." she is asleep before she finishes her sentence. I smile and kiss her forehead. "Of course, my woodland sprite." It's a nickname long since adapted for her - Creta is my sprite; Aria my nymph. Sometimes, they call me Sparrow, for my song, insisting that I am as acquainted with the forest as it.

I sit beside Creta a moment before reaching over to stroke Aria's back. She lets out a little snore, curling into a ball. I cannot help but smile. Aria, twelve, has five years to Creta's seven, but in sleep they are the same. I wonder briefly if I am also so sweet and vulnerable in sleep, my jaw relaxing and breathing deeply and slowly.

I lay down on the floor, pulling a blanket over me and bundling another under my head. I close my eyes, willing myself to go to sleep. Normally, I wait for Mom to get home, but since I'm about to go scouting for a week ... like Lore put it, if I'm not on my toes, it may very well be the end of me. It takes a moment, but soon my mind is spiraling into dreamless sleep.

**~~BTCS~~**

My internal clock wakes me before the sun has risen enough to. Shaking the weariness from myself, I sit up and glance about the room. Mom is back, sleeping peacefully beside me, and neither Creta nor Aria stir on the mattress. I sit there silently for a moment, stretching my arms, neck, and back as I always do on the morning of a scouting day. Getting up, I stretch my legs and torso while locating my scouting outfit, which I make efforts to keep nice. It consists of a green shirt, durable brown pants, and a nice leather jacket. I put it all on and begin breakfast - a concoction of berries and rabbit meat that I managed to scrounge from the nearly empty woods this week. Of course, this is totally illegal, but we don't get a lot of fresh food in 7, so the Peacekeepers don't object, so long as we share.

When the scent begins to flow through the house, my mother gets up and dresses in her usual work clothes. She gives me a small smile and bends forward to smell the food. "Delicious," she proclaims. I correct her automatically, "Edible."

Mom laughs. "What more could I ask?" Mom is a tall woman with the straight raven hair and firm jaw that is prior to our district. Her eyes have a stubborn gleam in them, which I am told my own get, but show good humor as well. Her hands are calloused; her arms strong and firm from all those years of chopping trees down. She's quite pretty, I suppose, though age and work have worn down her looks considerably. "I'll take over here," she suggested. "You go wake Aria and Creta."

"Gladly," I say. "Good luck saving the meal." She laughs as I duck behind the curtain. Soft dawn light is beginning to peek from between the boards of the beaten down wall. Aria is sitting up and stretching, a yawn stretched upon her young features. Smiling, I sit gently beside her. "Good morning, my nymph." There is no mistaking the sadness and worry in her face as she turns to me. She hates when I go out scouting. She doesn't sleep well, constantly worried about my safety. Though I have only come home badly injured twice while scouting - the one in my leg still acts up occasionally - Aria acts as though this only gives her greater cause to worry.

She embraces me, whispering. "You'll be careful, Fawn?" I give her a squeeze before letting go.

"You know I will." I kiss her head and gently shake Creta. She jolts awake immediately and smiles at me. Before I am fully aware of Creta sitting up, they have tackled me into a hug. Laughing, I tickle them until they dart away, giggling, into the kitchen. I pause before following to straighten the blankets strewn across the room.

Breakfast is quiet. It's impossible not to notice Aria, Creta, and Mom's eyes on me, thoughtful and worried. I smile at them delaying my departure. "Riccy said she'd stop by," I say, naming a girl one year younger than me and in the troop. Mom smiles, having met Riccy upon occasion, but no further attempt at conversation is made.

Before long, Riccy Longshadow does appear at the doorway, knocking on the wooden wall, which sways ominously as she does. Greeting her, I stand and deposit my dishes on the small collapsible table. Smiling, she enters and motions for someone behind her to follow. "I've got a recruit," Riccy announces as another girl follows her in. Riccy, with her long blonde hair and sky-blue eyes, sticks out like a sore thumb among the district. The girl behind her has brown-black hair and hazelnut eyes, fitting the normal District 7 protocol.

"Oh, good," I dust off my hands and study the new recruit. "Branchball will finally be fair. Are you familiar with the sport?" The girl's hazelnut eyes narrow in confusion and she shakes her head. "Don't worry - it's easy. I'll teach you." Shaking my bangs out of my eyes, I extend my hand. "Fawn Dogwood, and this is my mother and sisters, Aria and Creta."

The girl takes my hand and I am suddenly aware of how young she is - only thirteen or fourteen. Only too often, we take out kids her age and bring back shells. Will this be the fate of the hazelnut-eyed girl? "I'm Johanna Mason," she tells me.

"Mason ..." I muse. "As in District 2?"

Johanna makes a face. "My granddad migrated," she told me, her voice having that young lilt to it, but she refuses to elaborate.

I turn to give my sisters quick hugs, promising that I'll be back soon. Riccy strikes up conversation with my mother, but I am aware of Johanna's hazelnut eyes watching me carefully, calculating. A small grin creeps onto my face and I know she's a survivor. Maybe she will survive this coming week after all.

**~~~BTCS~~~**

We meet the rest of the troop at the Peacekeeper headquarters. They all greet Johanna similar to how I did, with various degrees of warmth, welcome, and trepidation. We all know the risks she is taking - we took them ourselves when we were as young as (or younger than) her.

The Peacekeepers go to strenuous lengths to identify us. After the blood, finger print, and DNA testing, they take Johanna away briefly to bind her in promises and threats. When she reappears, she has the same white crescent moon identification mark that we all do. It is located near our right ears and looks like a misshapen, perfect scar. I smile wryly at the sight of her. She's one of us now. There's no turning back for her.

We are silently marched away from Sawdust but we don't venture into the woods just yet. The Peacekeepers keep glancing nervously at each other, finding the forest daunting even at this distance. Of course, the troop (Crescent Moon Troop, as we have named ourselves) finds this widely amusing, suppressing smiles and restraining laughs until it hurt. When we are, finally, a considerable way from Sawdust or any other town, the Peacekeepers stop. After sternly reminding us of our oaths, they hand us each a bedroll and a pocketful of knives. In addition, Lore is given the equipment for charting the land, long since becoming our most skilled charter. Once we have received all the Peacekeepers care to give us and are promised wages upon return, we turn to the woods and leave without preamble, eager to leave the Peacekeepers and Panem behind.

I breathe deeply as we enter the forest, enjoying its fresh and natural sheen of smell. We stop as soon as we are beyond the Peacekeeper's sight, stretching and talking amongst ourselves. Lore glances at me and calls "Get enough sleep, Fawn?" I grin and reply, "Enough, thanks to you!" He shrugs this off and turns to his parchment, already noting the types of trees, their thickness, and dips in the land.

"Aw, man!" Kri, one of the oldest members of the troop, will leave us in a few months on his eighteenth birthday, when the adult jobs become open to him. Now, he is looking at his bedroll in distaste. "I got the ripped one!"

"Here," Lyda, our youngest member to ever survive her first day, rummages through her pockets to hand Kri a needle and thread. "I had it last time." Kri thanks her, well aware of the cost of the thread. Promising to repay her, he stows the threaded needle carefully inside the bedroll.

I take a moment to examine my own knives and bedroll. The bedroll is in perfect condition, and the knives have minimum dent- and rustage. Pleased, I glance around the troop, feeling a sudden weight leave my chest and, replacing it, kinship. Here, in the woods, I can relax, knowing that the others will protect me as I will them. Birds chirp among the canopy, and a stream rustles nearby. I dip my heels into the soft dirt, thinking of the many years that have passed since a human stood under these trees...

Johanna is staring about her, eyes wide and mouth in a small 'o'. I nudge her and she turns to me in wonder. "What do you think?" I ask with a knowing smile.

"It's so ... different!" she gasps and my grin widens. This was my first reaction, too. I had expected it to be devoid of life as the Chopping Zone that I was accustomed to, having never met the wild woods before. "We're not even properly in yet!" I grin at her and take her knives. Mostly new, they are almost in as good of condition as mine. I tell her so and motion to a nearby tree, only about 15 yards off. "Let's see you throw."

Johanna hesitates a moment, moving the knife from hand to hand, eyes narrowed and calculating. She raises her arm slowly, and lets the knife fly without warning. It lands in the corner of the tree, and, upon further examination, I see that it sunk an inch or so into the deep bark. "Not bad," I say, remembering a twelve year old boy who missed the tree entirely and hit Lyda instead. Thankfully, her quick reflexes had saved her from a serious injury. I have Johanna hold the knife again, correcting her grip and other fundamental techniques. The next time I have her throw the knife, I direct her to a thick, knobby vein and the knife lands only an inch from her target. After brief congratulations, I send her to fetch the knife.

"Seems talented," Poy appears suddenly beside me, and I jump despite myself. Poy is a shadow with his dark skin and hair, which makes him handy to surprise some of the predators that stalk us out here ... I automatically glance around before replying, "Yeah ... didn't stab anyone, did she?" Poy cracks a smile that quickly dies because we're both thinking of what happened to that boy next ... I glance quickly at Johanna, retrieving her knife without difficulty. Remembering the distraught faces of the young children's parents, I shudder with distaste. The thought of carrying Johanna's shell back to Sawdust is so unbearable; I promise myself that I will keep that from happening.

**~~~~BTCS~~~~**

The terrain proves perfect. There are thick amounts of trees, and spacious clearings where we can store the equipment and even build some houses. The wood itself is mostly pine, and I breathe deeply, savoring the smell. Pine ... we haven't cut pine since I was eight - nearly a decade ago! Creta hasn't ever smelled its sweet scent. And kids like Johanna, Lyda, and Aria don't remember it. Dad always covered the floor of our home with pine needles, laying down and stretching out on a bed of pine. Ever since, pine has been home, childhood, and safety. The thought of living surrounded by pine gives me a distinct feeling of satisfaction, as well as a bit of sadness because it makes me think of Dad.

We are unchallenged by the predators of this area, which is typical on the first day. Animals, I have learned, observe, lurking in unseen shadows, before making their presence known. It's an old saying between us Crescent Moons: What you see in a moment has seen you for hours. When Lyda mentions this to Johanna, the latter is immediately at attention, gazing into the trees even after Lyda informs her that it's pointless; they won't be seen unless they want to be.

The predators are, of course, the reason for giving us the knives. The scouts without weapons never returned to Sawdust or any of the other moving towns. For awhile, Peacekeepers scouted, but this quickly ended because they were terrified of the wilderness and loving of the luxuries they had in their large, hard-to-move homes in Sawdust. So they gave the scouts the knives, with great trepidation, and intimidated us and bound us with oaths they thought we'd never dare break. And we haven't, not yet anyway. We could easily circle back to Sawdust and arm them with the knives, igniting a rebellion, but it would never get far. No, better to wait for the fire to start and then to fan the flames. But the option is still there, and we are all, horribly, aware of it.

As we walk, I keep a sharp eye on Johanna, noting the curiosity in the eyes that dart about, trying to see everything. Her tight grip on her knife, though, shows that she is wary and aware of the danger the woods pose to us, but especially her, since she is our apprentice, trainee, weak link. The animals always target the small ones, which is why so many don't survive. Lyda, however, surprises them all by proving ferocious despite her height. Johanna doesn't have the same spunk as fiery-haired Lyda, not yet at least, but seems to be made of the same stuff.

Each time we stop for Lore or someone else to adjust our makeshift map, Johanna is instructed with her knife. Sometimes Riccy takes charge, or Lyda or Kri, but I don't again, preferring to silently watch and ponder her fate. She quickly improves and can soon hit the knots from twenty feet. We have her try thirty, forty. She manages admirably, and we all praise her for it, though we know that this is nothing compared to what she may face later.

We go without eating for the day, and no one complains. We are well used to the routine, and Johanna has doubtlessly gone hungry before. When the sun has been falling for quite some time, around five o'clock, we decide to stop for the day. Trew, our Branchball champion, approves the scene for the game, and we quickly set up camp. "Girls' cooking night?" Lore suggests with a well-meaning smile. I snort. "I'm hunting."

"I think I'll stay," Lyda is not bashful in any way about staying for cooking, considering that she and Poy are the only two that can scrounge up a decent meal. "Care to keep me company, Poy?"

Poy smiles, already difficult to distinguish from the shadows in the lowering sun. "Of course," he tells her. "Riccy, Kri, and Trew want to stay, too, I think." The three volunteered for cooking put up a small protest that doesn't last long because we all have to cook one time or another.

Lore and I gather our knives, side by side, glancing at Johanna periodically as she waits for us beside the steadily growing pile of firewood that Kri and Riccy are building up. "Do you want to hunt together or alone?" Lore asks me. I think it over a moment. "Together," I decide. "because the animals normally attack the first night and we have Johanna to think about ..." Lore nods tersely, and we leave the clearing abruptly, with Johanna in tow.

Despite that we are in a large group and our senses more trained for predators than prey, Lore brings down a large rabbit and a goose, and I a squirrel and a sparrow. Neither of us are too pleased to see the goose. Where there are geese, there are large bodies of water. Ponds can be a nuisance to work around, and the water is far from pure. Sawdust's main supply of water is from streams and small rivers.

We have several opportunities to shoot down mockingjays and deer, but we don't. The deer are too large for our troop of 8 to eat in one night, and carrying around meat is tedious. As for the mockingjays, we have, despite ourselves, grown attached to the creatures. When we come across a grove full of them, I whistle part of Aria and Creta's lullaby, the part about the crystal sky, and the mockingjays, to my delight, sing back, filling the woods with their sweet, lovely notes.

Johanna doesn't really hunt. She tries once for a rabbit but misses. Mostly, she just watches me and Lore, copying our crouched, light steps and tilting her head to catch the sounds of tiny woodland creatures scurrying about the roots of the trees that will be gone in two fortnights. By the time we make our way back to the camp, I find myself feeling quite satisfied with her progress. Maybe she _will _survive the week after all.

The walk back is uneventful. I am tense the whole time, expecting a wild animal to jump out at me. Lore, too, is weary, constantly adjusting the rabbit attached to his pack to try and give him more maneuvering room. Johanna is copying our moods, and doesn't speak. Then again, none of us really speak while hunting; it just scares away the prey. But we do manage to get back to camp without getting ourselves maimed or killed, which Lore bitterly comments to be an obvious improvement. Johanna, upon realizing that this comment is about her and the other young ones, raises her head in pride, young eyes glittering with confidence she has not yet earned.

Lyda and Poy, to their everlasting credit of making our meals edible, have found some berries, nuts, and herbs to add to the meat. I don't care to ask the names of these, because I'll forget, but I do make note of them. If something were to happen to Lyda or Poy, someone would need to cook, and it might as well be me.

When the food is gone and we are all comfortably full, we gather around the dying embers of a fire we were so bold to make. Any animal around us now knows where we are. We are more alert for an attack than ever. The fact that one hasn't come yet is worrying to me. Why hadn't they attacked me, Johanna, and Lore when we were alone, weighed down by our kills? The fact that they hadn't made me think they had some kind of strategy, or that they were nearly human.

We wait around the fire awhile, but when none come, Trew sighs and stands. "Well, we might as well play, right?" There are muttered agreements, and Trew fetches the two balls, one small and the other large, both the color of lightly weathered oak. When Sawdust meats another moving town, like Walnut, we get to have a proper game of Branchball, with nine balls and three teams of 6. But we scouts are not so many, nor are there rarely so many youths with energy to play in Sawdust, so we have condensed the game slightly. We play with two groups of three, and the two balls. Normally, its girls versus boys, with one boy left over to stand guard. Today, however, we have Johanna, so we girls argue our way into getting Johanna on our team without another stepping back, as she is a beginner.

"All right, Joey," Riccy turns the larger ball over and over in her hand, and Johanna smiles at the nickname. We give them easily - Riccy's real name is Wristine, and Kri, Krime. We rescued poor Poy from Pomreek, and upon occasion they call me Faw, but no other, more sophisticated and fitting nickname has presented itself. "You haven't played Branchball before, have you?"

Appearing slightly embarrassed, Johanna shakes her head. "There was never any time. I had to work often."

Lyda nods, having been in the same place when she joined us. "Nothing to be embarrassed about; it's easy enough, Anna." She pauses and tilts her head. "Anna," she muses. "I think I like that more."

"Or just plain Jo," I say. Then, reverting the conversation back to Branchball, "We don't have many people out here, so there's just two groups of three, with you as an extra bonus to us today. That's girls versus boys."

Johanna's eyes are very wide. "Is that very fair?"

Lyda laughs. "Not for them. Agility is just as important as strength in Branchball." Lyda, of all people, knows this well, and we have all come to fear her in the game, despite her small and lanky appearance.

"The two balls," Riccy tosses the larger one up as she speaks, "are the tricks. One team, us tonight, is in possession of the smaller ball (normally there are three, one to each team, if you play properly) and have to keep it constantly in motion, from person to person, without dropping it. You may not hold the ball more than two seconds, or you're out."

"The other team," I say, "which is the boys, tonight, has the large ball (if you play it right, all the teams have two). Their objective is to capture the small ball. The moment they have it enclosed in their fists," I demonstrate, "they have won the game. They may intercept it however they like, but foul play is looked down upon. Oh, and it is played in the trees, on the branches."

Johanna's eyes narrow as she tries to straighten this information out. "But what is the bigger ball for?" she wants to know. "And how do _we _win?"

"The larger ball," Riccy throws it, "may be used to intercept the small ball, or to shake the branches of the trees to unbalance the other team. You _are _allowed to throw it at other players, but, like Fawn said, others getting hurt is looked down upon. If the small ball falls to the ground and is not caught, whoever reaches it first is in possession. If the girls get it, it is thrown again, if the boys get it, they win."

"As for how we win," Lyda's eyes are glittering. "If we manage to tag one of the players, they are immediately out. Once we tag all of them, we win."

I add, "Branchball, properly, is much more complex, what with the larger and more numerous teams and the extra balls. You'd have a harder time there - it's so chaotic, you can hardly tell what's happening!" I chuckle in mirth. "Better you learn here. Maybe you can play when we meet up with another town - Sap or Pine Needles."

"Now, Faw," Lyda pretends to scold. "Let's just get her through this one game, first."

"Right," I grin, picking up the smaller ball. "So, that's everything, Anna. Who wants possession of the ball first?"

Lyda's hand shoots into the air before Riccy's lips can part. Grinning wider, I toss her the ball, and she twirls it in her fingers. "We're gonna win!" she decides, and Riccy gives that brief applause.


	2. I WAIT

**PART I. BEGINNING.  
CHAPTER 2. WAIT.**

_Time for chapter 2! Thanks to all who R&R ... how do you make that past tense? R&Red? Never mind ... Anyway, this is dedicated to the amazing, best friend ever, Kaitlin, who puts up with my ranting (a good portion of which is dedicated to BTCS), and altogether keeps me together. Let's have a round of applause for her._

_And now, let us return to BTCS. For the sake of character building, I decided to pick up only a few hours after the last chapter (I think I called it Scout) ended. So, yep, give it up for Fawn (again)!_

**~BTCS~**

Riccy catches the ball neatly as she jumps to a lower branch. She tosses it upwards as Lyda maneuvers to reach it. It's barely touched her hands when it flies directly to Johanna, who quickly tosses it in my direction. I aim to Lyda again. A heartbeat after it leaves my palm, the larger ball smacks the branch, which begins to shake precariously. Shooting Lore, who threw the ball, an angry look, I drop to a branch a bit lower.

We have been playing for a time, but no one has made a distinct advantage. Poy was tagged by Lyda, and now sits, dejected, to the side. Trew, Lore, and Kri are still throwing around the larger ball and maneuvering away from our attempts to tag them. They are yet to come close to grabbing the smaller ball, though Johanna almost fell off her branch once. Johanna hasn't done much but pass the ball the entire game, but she's really just expected to observe.

I begin weaving into the higher branches of the trees, where mockingjays flutter around my head. Riccy laughs as she tosses me the small ball, calling, "You have a crown of birds!" and I laugh too as I toss it back. I whistle out a bit of the lullaby, 'The sparrow is no mockingjay to sing a child to sleep,' and they call it back into the darkness. I keep climbing up until I can hardly see anyone but for Johanna, who tosses me the ball occasionally so I can drop it back.

Tilting my head to catch the breeze in my hair, I eye the boys. We have to sleep eventually, which means that someone has to win, or we call a tie. I really hate calling ties - we all do. We'd rather stay up till the sun rises than call one. But the moon is getting high in the sky, and I'm still behind on sleep. We'll have to try something risky.

We've already agreed on a plan for this case. I whistle again, this time three short notes. The mockingjays gladly repeat it, and I take a deep breath. Lyda, Riccy, and Johanna give no sign of recognition to this signal, but they are doubtlessly prepared. After a moment of hesitation, I stretch myself out and allow myself to fall through the branches. Kri gives a cry of warning, thinking I've slipped, but Lyda and Riccy are immersed in passing the ball back and forth. Johanna has vanished.

I had placed my fall to put me out of way of large branches, so the twigs brushing by me don't really hurt, just slow me down. The light from the fire is getting close. Kri and Lore stand beneath me, ready to catch me, while Trew holds the ball nearby, ready for trickery. I close my eyes, bracing myself. Kri and Lore's arms are steady, and they swing me between them a few times, tossing me onto my feet. I gasp out a thank you, breathless with exhilaration from my fall. I really should do that more often. They give me nods, and the game resumes its competitive feel.

I dart towards Kri, arm outstretched as though going to tag him. He sidesteps, smacking my hand out of the way. I aim a kick at Lore, which hits, but, unfortunately, tags have to be made with the hands. Slowly, they begin to back away from me, towards a large tree. I carefully stalk after them, watching their body language carefully for an opening. When none appears, I give up and fling myself at Lore, who flips me onto the ground with ease. They run to the tree, and, winded, I don't follow for a moment.

They glance around at their surroundings when they have caught their breath, as I am hefting myself up the first branch. Unfortunately, they spot Johanna, creeping up on Trew, who is aiming the large ball at Riccy. "Trew!" Kri's call of warning has barely left his mouth when my hand smacks his boot. He lets out a stream of curses at his own foolhardy, and drops to the ground, joining Poy.

Though Kri, who is now out, can no longer warn his team of the imminent danger Johanna and I pose, neither are fooled. Lore is scrambling up the tree from me, hopping from branch to branch in efforts to escape. I don't look over to see how Johanna is doing; I just climb. Branches fly past as I scramble up the bark, finding handholds easier than Lore, who has to haul his bulky frame with less ease. When he glances down, he sees how quickly I am gaining on him. He begins to climb faster than is probably safe, but I'm going faster, so who am I to complain?

Lore flings himself onto another tree, scrambling along it. I climb a bit higher so that I will be harder to see, and then follow. Lore has to climb towards the trunk so that the branches won't break, but I'm lighter, so I can climb on the lighter, leafier branches. Soon I am high above him, hidden in leaves and watching him struggle about. He's looking for me, but can't find me. Eventually, he has the sense to stop, and I grit my teeth. If I move, the mockingjays will surely call out and alert him of my placement, but if I don't, I might never be at such an advantage to him again.

I decide to risk it. I drop to a branch about a yard or so from his head. The branches rustle and a mockingjay calls as it is startled. Lore looks up and quickly spots my nut-brown hair in the darker wood and green. He starts to scramble down, but I'm quicker, on him in an instant. "Got you!" I cry joyfully, smacking his shoulder. Lore moans for a moment, then grins. "That was good, Fawn," he says, giving my hand a quick shake.

"Thanks," I shake my bangs out of my eyes and glance around at the clearing far below. "Can you tell what's going on down there?"

"Nope," he says. "Shall we?" I grin at his mock gentleman-like attitude. However, I don't accept his hand as I drop from branch to branch, until I hit the ground in a crouch. Dusting myself off, I look around. Johanna, Riccy, and Lyda are tossing the ball back and forth, glancing towards me with curiosity, having, no doubt, heard my and Lore's scuffle in the branches. "Got him!" I tell them with pride.

Riccy's face breaks into a wide grin as Lore drops beside me. "We won!" she tells me, and Lyda smacks Johanna's back heartily, barking out a howl to the moon in jubilance. I laugh, smiling as well. "Who took out Trew?" I ask, looking right out Lyda. Trew is our best Branchball player - Lyda is the only person who's managed to tag him out before.

Lyda's grin is more triumphant than before. "It wasn't me, actually," she informs me, laughing at my shock. "Or Riccy. Johanna here is proving to be a very valuable player."

I turn to Johanna. "You got Trew out?"

"Beginner's luck," Trew grumbles, and that brings a laugh to my lips. Johanna smiles and nods, somewhat embarrassed. I thump her on the back like Lyda did, but I don't howl to the moon. "Well done!" I congratulate her.

Kri's face is thoughtful. "I wonder how she'd do in a proper game, with other towns." We all study Johanna momentarily. After a moment, Poy suggests, "We normally meet Walnut and Pinecone on our way to Redwood." I notice how he avoids mentioning the Hunger Games. "There's eight of us - if we pick up another player, we could play."

"Johanna can be our secret weapon," Riccy puts in. "since they've already figured out about Lyda."

I nod approvingly. Sawdust has lost to Walnut too many times. "My sister, Aria, is twelve now. She's old enough to start scouting, or at least playing Branchball."

"Isn't Aria the one that cries when you're gone?" Lyda asks. Sheepishly, I nod. "She might not be up for scouting, not yet, at least. But Branchball is another matter entirely. Has she ever played before?"

I shrug. "When the children are given free time at school, they play a variation of it. Aria tells me that she's pretty good. She's always the planner of her team. She's the one that gave me the idea for the falling technique I tried out today."

Trew nods. "She might be a valuable asset to our team, then." I grin. Aria has always admired the members of the troop - our toughness, tight-knit family, and pride. In a way, we're kind of like the gangs that threaten the streets of Redwood. But we don't aim to start trouble, like they do. Sure, we are competitive with the other troops, but we are never physical with them, and we don't steal.

Silent, we all set up our bedrolls beside the fire. I pile pine needles beside my pillow, and it's like I'm back with my father, rolling in the pine needles. I notice that Johanna is having trouble setting up her bedroll, and I walk over. "Having trouble?" I keep my voice low, because Kri is already asleep, and Lyda is following fast. Riccy, who is on watch, glances over at us briefly before returning her gaze to the shadows, preparing for an animal attack. Even Kri, fast asleep, holds a knife tightly in his fist.

Johanna shrugs, unwilling to admit that she is not setting up as easily as the rest of the Crescent Moon troop. I smile kindly at her and help her set it up. "It's not a big deal," I assure her. "We were all new once, you know."

Johanna's answering smile is a bit forced. "I don't like being singled out," she admits. "I feel like the weak link, with the rest of you looking out for me, like some rambunctious toddler."

I laugh at this description Johanna gives herself, careful to keep the noise from waking the others. "You are our weak link!" I gasp through my laughter. "And soon you'll be looking out for another young one!" Johanna's nose wrinkles as she screws up her face in annoyance at the term 'young one,' which only makes me laugh more.

"Thanks," it is sincere, despite her dislike of the way I'm referring to her.

"No problem," I clap her shoulder. "Not after your Branchball performance, anyway." Johanna's eyes lower with embarrassment, and I'm chuckling again.

She shrugs off my hand. "Why is Branchball such a big deal to you all?"

I consider her question seriously for a moment before replying, "I suppose it's the first chance we see how you shape up to action, even if it's only a game. If you do well at Branchball, there's a good chance that you'll make it home and out again." Johanna's eyes darken at this comment. She has doubtlessly seen the dead bodies that we bring back. Does she suspect that she will soon be one of them? Feeling saddened, I bid her goodnight and return to my own bedroll.

My head tucked into the soft pillow (which we can't afford in the Sawdust huts) and surrounded by pine and friends, I become dangerously relaxed. I know that animals are roaming at this time - they very well may be watching us right now! Yet, all the same, I cannot help myself from falling into a deep and peaceful sleep.

**~~BTCS~~**

I wake to a cool touch. I blink my eyes open slowly, make drowsy by the smell of pine. Riccy's golden-framed hair shifts above me. "Morning, sleepy head," she teases. I push her off and stretch slowly, blinking until my surroundings come into focus. It's colder than it was yesterday, and I know instinctively that this will be one of those days when you are cold no matter how far you run. A small frown develops on my lips.

I turn to Riccy. "We weren't attacked last night?" I had instinctively expected to wake to snarls and cries - not a peaceful but cold morning with the sharp scent of pine all around.

"Nope," Riccy shakes her head slowly, her eyes lifting to scan the trees momentarily. "Not a hair of an animal all night, but for the mockingjays." They twitter as she mentions them, as though to remind me of their presence.

I screw my eyes up as I glance at the rising sun. I'm still drowsy from staying up so late playing Branchball. Around me, the rest of the troop is up, rolling up their bedrolls, cooking last night's leftovers, chatting to each other, or just looking darkly into the shadows. "No one woke me for watch," I tell Riccy, stretching again.

"I know," Riccy begins to finger-comb her hair. "I had the last watch. I was going to wake you up, but ..." she glancing into the trees. "I was worried about being attacked, and I figured just to let you sleep."

We've all done it before - save each other the strain of waking for watch. I nod in understanding. "Fine, but I take the first watch tonight." Riccy nods in agreement before dropping the conversation entirely and turning around slowly to examine the surrounding trees. I stand and do the same, stretching as I do so. I tuck a knife into my belt and shrug my leather jacket on, immediately expelling the cold. After looking about for another moment, I bend to roll up my bedroll. Riccy stands above me, knife out, ready to challenge anything intending to take advantage of my momentary distraction.

I stand, and Riccy and I both head over to the fire. Johanna glances up at us briefly before returning her gaze to the shadows and turning her knife over in her hands. I turn to Kri, who is handing out food, hopefully. His smile is dry and nervous as he hands me some of the leftover food. I'm too focused on the trees to fully recognize what I am eating. Riccy stands beside me, chewing slowly and swallowing dryly.

After we have all eaten and packed up, there is no reason to delay. Our job is to survey this part of the woods in one week, which isn't very long for such a large area. And we can't be late this time, because we'll miss the Reaping, which is punishable by death. Lyda is given the mapmaking supplies for the day. Lore and I take up pace beside her, creating a barrier so that she can work without worrying about her life suddenly ending.

The walk is quiet and thick with anticipation. We don't talk unless it's completely necessary, keeping our eyes and ears fixed upon what we cannot see. "What you see in a moment has seen you for an hour." But when does the hour start? We don't take any breaks, too nervous to stop and stay sitting ducks. I notice that Lyda's marks aren't as straight as normal, shaking from nerves. A charging foe we can face without hesitation, but one that hides and waits is terrifying.

Towards the end of the day, Lore stops suddenly, head tilted to the side ever so slightly. Lyda and I stop immediately, straining our ears, and the rest of the troop does as well when they notice our pause. "What is it, Lore?" Trew whispers. Wide-eyed and wordless, Lore points up, and I register the sound immediately.

"Tracker jackers," Lyda whispers, unable to stop shaking. Her father died from tracker jacker venom, a nest unnoticed by the scouting troop at that time. Whenever we encountered a nest, she would refuse to go within hearing range of them while we marked the spot on a map and then continued in the opposite direction.

Johanna also looks scared. She has probably not seen a tracker jacker nest before, but has doubtlessly heard of them. They're a constant problem in District 7, especially in the moving towns of Sawdust, Walnut, Sap, Pine Needles, and Pinecone. In the five, we are sparsely populated, and have to be on constant alert for the pesky little nests. The Peacekeepers have supplies that will calm the insects, but normal citizens are not trusted with them, especially not us scouts. So, the Peacekeepers are safe, but the people of District 7 are not.

"How many of them?" Kri has the sense to keep his voice down, and we all stand carefully still.

I listen to the buzzing for a moment, trying to decide. "At least five or six nests," I reply, shuddering at the thought of the hallucinations that their venom could induce. "Too many to pass by."

Riccy nods. "Slowly," she whispers out of the corner of her mouth to Johanna. "As silent as you can, back away." Beside me, Lyda is shaking like the leaves of the few oak trees in autumn, but her steps are steady and surprisingly silent.

I hear a particular buzz in the chorus coming closer and catch my breath. Is one of the pests coming closer? I slow my breathing and step to almost nonexistent, and I wonder if this is what the trees feel like, swaying gently in the breeze and slowly extending its roots down and branches up. The buzzing fades back into the normal and I breathe again.

When the buzzing fades into the distance, we stop and glance at each other. Lyda's shaking has ceased, but she is too pale. Lore takes the maps from her and carefully marks the location of the nests. I sweep Lyda into a firm hug, brushing back her fiery hair. Her green eyes are so blank and distant, I'm not sure she registers any of this, though she does squeeze me back. "Shhh, shhh," I whisper to her. "Its okay, Lyda, really, it is. They're gone, all gone. No tracker jackers to get any of us. We're too tough for them. Their stingers could pierce our skin."

"Now, the Sap Troop," Riccy comments, taking Lyda from me. Lyda is, I can now see, relieving the moment of her father's death. "are an entirely different story. They're so soft; they would've never survived what we just did."

I frown. "Sap's troop is just as tough as we are."

Riccy's laugh is loud enough to worry me about alerting the tracker jackers. It's the first real sign of merriment to appear the entire day. "Oh, I forgot, Fawn! Isn't River Arbre in that troop?" My color must speak for me because she bursts out laughing again.

"River - I mean that River and I - he's -" I sputter out, and Lore begins laughing, too.

"I've met River," he tells me. "Nice guy. Nice looking, too." he winks at me, and I must give the color red a new definition. "Isn't it about time for him to speak to your mother?"

"Lore!" I snap, embarrassment flooding me. I push him playfully, shaking my head at his words.

Trew smiles and saunters over. "Normally, he'd talk to your father, right?" I nod in agreement, eyes narrowed. "Well, as circumstances have it, you have no father for him to approach. Poor boy. That's probably why he hasn't approached your mother yet."

Poy nods thoughtfully. "Of course. This makes sense now. We'll just have to, shall I say, point him in the right direction, and stand in for your father."

My cheeks flush. "You wouldn't!" I cry accusingly, only my fear of the tracker jackers keeping me within reason. "You... You couldn't! You wouldn't!" Riccy's great laugh rings in my ears.

"Ah, yes, wonderful idea, Poy," Lore thumps him on the back. "Absolutely wonderful. Of course, we'll take him aside and instruct him to be very, very, careful with our little girl." he winks at me and I moan.

"He'll have to have his own hut, three yards of rich red fabric, and a goat before he may marry you," Trew declares. I shake my head. These proposals are ridiculous. Having three yards of rich fabric and a goat meant that you were fabulously rich, especially for the Sawdust huts.

Riccy takes my shoulders, passing Lyda to Kri. "When we meet Sap next, you're to come to my hut before you see that boy, do you hear me? My sister has a pretty dress that she's saving for me, but it won't quite fit my yet. You, however ... you would fit it perfectly."

Lyda has awoken from whatever world she was in and now tugs at my long brown hair, in a tight ponytail for the scouting expedition. "I know a new way to do your hair that will make your eyes look nice," she tells me, smiling once more.

"And then you can go talk to River," Lore announces. "Well, talk or ..."

My mouth drops. "Lore!" I push him over, and both Riccy and Lyda have to restrain me from going and kicking his face.

Laughing, Lore sits up and points at my face. "If only you could see the look on your face right now!" He collapses back down again, beating the ground with his fists in a pure state of hysteria. I roll my eyes, but my face is red as ever.

"So," Johanna has stood to the side throughout all of this. "Who's this River kid?"

"Only the most brave -" Lyda begins

"And handsome -" Riccy bats her eyebrows, and I push her too.

"-boy in the Sap Troop," Lyda continues. "He's seventeen - older than Fawn. Trew, do you think that's going to be a problem?"

Trew frowns and studies me a moment. "Not so long as Fawn and River wait until she is eighteen. Fawn, that's in ... what? A year and a half? Less? You don't have long to wait at all."

"Back in my day," Lore sits up slowly, as though his back hurt, pretending to be an elder and shaking his crooked finger at me. "we did things properly. The boy courted the girl for five years before asking her to marry him, and the parents were informed long before the courting!"

Laughter booms around. "Oh, be quiet," I snap to Lore. "As if you are falling over Jessica every time you see her." Jessica is a pretty, curvy girl from Pine Needles, but she isn't in her town's troop. Her family had only her and her father, so they managed fine with their wages from cutting lumber without taking new jobs. She has an easier life than most, but I try not to hold a grudge against her for it.

It's Lore's turn to become the rising sun. "Jessica? Please."

"Fawn's got you there, Lore," Kri laughs. "Whenever you're around Jessica, you light up like a moonbeam. She's noticed, too. Why aren't you talking to her father?" The entire Crescent Moon Troop laughs, and, to my relief, the conversation is dropped.

**~~~BTCS~~~**

I cook tonight, with Lyda, Poy, and Lore. Their teasing has ceased, but Lore's smiles tell me that he has not dropped the conversation completely. I huff slightly as he waggles his eyebrows at me, resisting the urge to jump up and box his ears. "Lyda," I lift some kind of pine nut. "What are these for?"

Lyda studies them momentarily, and then nods to the goose, the second we've found, with no lake in sight. "We'll try to make it in the goose." I don't argue, placing the pine nuts neatly on a leaf beside the cooking goose.

Dusting my hands, I stretch and glance across the borders of the forest again. I've long since memorized the sight, down to every twig. If something were out of place, I'd notice it. But there is nothing different about the landscape. With Trew, Riccy, Kri, and Johanna hunting tonight, I'm on edge. Why haven't we been attacked? We can put part of it off to the tracker jacker's location, but we are far from them now. Unless there is some unseen threat lurking, there are animals waiting for the right moment to encounter us. It's lucky that I have the first watch tonight; I might not be able to sleep at all.

Riccy and Johanna return from hunting soon, and skin their catch. I take one look at Johanna's face as she does the messy work and know that she has done it before. So, she's been illegally hunting, like the rest of the kids her age. Somehow, I'd thought that she wouldn't have been. Johanna's tough, like you have to be to survive, but she doesn't have the fire that fuels most. She's quieter and more reserved. Of course, this may change about her. Even Aria, my shy, perfect sister, will doubtlessly become gruffer as she ages.

The squirrel finishes cooking first. Lore sets the wooden plates out for Poy to place the food on. We may be tough, wilderness-loving scouts, but we're not savages above using plates and utensils. They're just not ... always available. I begin mashing some roots and berries that Lyda gave me. The smell of the cooked meat is tempting, but I resist the urge to dig in.

Trew and Kri appear to be taking their time. I wonder if they have found the lake, and are noting it on the paper they took. I hope so - the lake is beginning to worry us, since we can't find it. Tracker jackers like large bodies of water, and if the lake is huge, there might be dozens of tracker jacker nests lurking around. We want to be prepared the next time we have a run-in with those little beasties.

When the sun has left the horizon and the cricket's song rules the night, I begin to worry. The food has long since cooled, and we are attempting to keep it and ourselves warm with the aid of the fire. I give up and eat my share, the others slowly doing so themselves. Kri and Trew must know that we would eat without them if they keep out so late. I exchange a glance with Riccy, and I know that she is also thinking of the animals that are lurking about. Lyda's eyes are wide, and I'm sure that she's imagining them intoxicated with tracker jacker venom.

By the time the owls have begun their hunt, and the stars are watching with their crystal light above, I have made up my mind. I stand and announce, "I'm going to look for them." They all nod immediately and begin packing up, like I am now. Riccy is the first to realize that this will not work.

"Hey, wait a minute," she says. "We can't all go. Someone has to watch the fire, and wait to see if Trew and Kri come back."

Lyda's hand shoots into the air. "I'll do it," she offers. My features fall into a sympathetic frown. The poor girl. Her imaginings must have been worse than I thought.

"We can't leave you here alone, not if there's something out there," I point out. "I'm not staying, though. I'm the one that wanted to go in the first place." There are unhappy glances, and mutterings, but there is no dispute over this.

"Hanna can't go," Lore announces. "She's too young, and inexperienced."

Johanna's features solidify into a mask of anger. "I'm not young!" Her high pitched voice gives her away, but we all admire her courage to face the unknown.

"C'mon, Anna, it's for your own good," I mutter, voice gentle. "Stay here with Lyda." Johanna pouts a moment more, and then crosses her arms and sits down by the fire, recognizing defeat. Lyda pats her arm and whispers something in her ear.

I glance at Poy, Riccy, and Lore. One of them really should stay, so that we will have even groups of three. But will any of them back down? We spend a few moments in tense silence, before Poy sighs. "I'll stay with the girls," he announces, "they're both young."

"Hey!" Johanna and Lyda cry as one. It's enough to draw a dry chuckle out of all of us. Poy ruffles their hair and they push him off.

Lore, Riccy, and I finish our packing, only taking what we must. We equip ourselves with all the clothing we can that won't hinder our movement, because the night is cold without the fire's protection. Our knives are carefully stored, but we leave the mapmaking supplies with Poy, Lyda, and Johanna. We can't risk all of our work getting destroyed.

I give our fire-watchers a salute in the fashion of District 7; one hand raised to the sky and one on the heart. They return it, and Lore leads the way into the trees.

**~~~~BTCS~~~~**

The darkness is nearly absolute. We hadn't dared bring a torch with us, because the light would've alerted anything waiting for us. We found a path through the trees that Riccy assured us was not hers and Johanna's. So far, it has not lead us to Kri and Trew, but our hopes remain high as we spot a human footprint.

At one point, we hear a coyote howl, startlingly close, and rustling underbrush. We all stop, stock-still. Is this the long-awaited predator? We stare at each other and the shadows, and suddenly hear a human cry, long and loud, and distinctly Kri.

We are running through the trees in a heartbeat, abandoning the path. I clutch a knife tight in my hand, ready to throw at the slightest sign of movement, looking for a flash of color in the weak light from the half moon. But it's not me that finds the scene first. It's Lore who flings his knife first. I struggle to a stop, finding the fight quickly. Three large, muscular coyotes are standing beneath a tree. One has a knife embedded in its side and is slowly approaching Lore. Another has a pant leg in his teeth...

Riccy and I act at the same time, throwing our knife at the wolf with Kri's pant leg in his mouth. The poor beast has no time to react as two knives sink into his heart. I race forward to catch the falling Kri above the dead coyote's body, like he and Lore did to me last night. He swings easily onto his feet, slapping my shoulder in thanks. In grim return, I hand him a knife, noticing that his are gone.

Trew climbs down quickly, jumping the last ten feet, and accepting a knife from me as well. "How long have you been in that tree?" I ask, loudly, watching Lore and Riccy evade the two remaining coyotes and throwing a knife of my own to save Lore from a serious bite.

"Hours," Trew answers, stretching his legs and keeping a close eye on the fallen coyote as Trew checks to make sure it's dead. "I got stiff, which is the only reason that one got me."

I'm amused, despite the situation. "Naturally." Trew pronounces it to be dead and I split up my remaining knives between the three of us. They give me a quick salute and dash off to help Riccy.

Wanting to save as many of my knives as possible, I pick up a nicely sized rock. "Hey! Stink-breath!" I throw the rock, which strikes the coyote Lore is fighting in the eye. It howls and stops in its tracks, pawing at its eye, which is most definitely bleeding. "Whistle-voice!" I've earned his attention. Lore backs away from us both slowly, meeting my eyes. Right. Keep it busy, and Lore can catch it off guard. Easy enough.

"That's right, Soft-Paws. That was me." I pick up another rock, and throw it. My aim isn't nearly as good with this one, and the coyote easily avoids it, but his eyes are narrowed on me. I'm making him angry. I throw another insult, and wave a rock at him threateningly. I can see that he is going to leap long before his muscles tense. I'm long gone when he lands where I was, rocks pelting his now-blind side. He spins around, confused for a moment, before finding me with a knife at ready. "Come get me, you baby. I've fought cubs better than you!"

The coyote cannot understand my words (obviously), but he can understand my meaning. His claws rake the ground as he studies me. Suddenly, he dashes towards me. He's quick, but I'm prepared. A knife flies and hits his muzzle, nearly puncturing his windpipe. Another gets his shoulder, but he doesn't stop. I'm forced to flee, with him following me. He's much faster, but I hold knives threateningly, assuring him that I will throw them, which barely keeps him off of me.

I spot Lore hanging in a tree just up ahead, a knife aimed for the coyote, which, intent on me, doesn't sense the new danger. I sprint for the tree, several yards ahead of the coyote, who hesitates when I stop, eyes locked on my knife. "Scared?" I ask, taunting him further. "Come and get me, you yellow-bellied -" I stop when Lore's knife hits his back with such force that the coyote is thrown to the ground. He's not dead, though, I can see that.

"I'm out of knives!" Lore calls to me. I nod to show that I understand, but don't reply, watching my enemy closely. Obviously in pain, I think I hear the beast whimper. Slowly, I approach him.

The wound that Lore gave him is frightening up close. I don't care to see the blood welling up around the fur, and the punctured organs below. The coyote's breath is shallow, and his working eye distant. I bend down and look into that eye until it clears with recognition. "You shouldn't have messed with my friends. No one messes with my friends." I send a knife into his heart and wait for the light to drain from him and his chest to fall silent. Then I retrieve the knives from his body and look around.

The coyote that Riccy, Trew, and Kri were fighting is long dead, and they are watching me. I smile slightly, wiping my hair from my eyes. We're all safe. It's all right. Lore hops down to join me, and I study him critically. He appears uninjured, but I ask him just to be sure.

Lore smiles. "That coyote couldn't hurt me."

I laugh, and give him a hug, filled with relief. "I know." Then I turn to the others. "Are you all okay?"

Trew responds, "Kri and I are, but Riccy -"

"-only has a scratch," Riccy interrupts him. "Really, it's fine." I'm beside her in a heartbeat, Lore behind me, studying her arm. It's oozing blood, running from her shoulder to her elbow. I flinch at the thought of what pain she must be in.

Kri, our best healer, studies it thoughtfully. "It'll be okay," he assures us. "Just needs some healing. Did you bring a medical kit?" I shake my head, and Kri quickly tears off a length of fabric from his shirt, wrapping it tightly around Riccy's arm to staunch the blood flow. "We'd better get back," he announces. "Poy, Lyda, and Johanna are still with the fire, right?"

Lore nods. "Right."

"They've got your dinner waiting for you," I add.

Trew grins. "Good. I'm starving."

**~~~~~BTCS~~~~~**

_That was ... erm ... interesting. I hadn't really planned to make Fawn talk to coyotes. Really, kind of, insane, as I look back on it... Oh well. R&R!_


	3. I FESTIVAL

**PART I. BEGINNING.  
CHAPTER 3. FESTIVAL.**

_Hey again. All right, this was apparently ready for publishing a couple of days ago, so sorry for any wait that was unnecessary. And I've started on the next chapter, so it should be out soon. :) Hopefully, that redeems me with you. Anyway, prepare. You're about to meet a very, very important character and his family/friends._

**~BTCS~**

The rest of the scouting trip passes quickly. The coyotes do not bother us again, despite the fact that we know there must be more, watching and waiting. The Crescent Moon Troop has placed itself on the top of the food chain once more. Lore credits me on saving his life by distracting the coyote. As I have pointed out more times than I care to count, he has saved my life on more than once occasion. We are equal on this ground. Everyone in the troop is.

We find the despised lake the day after the coyote attack. It's fairly large, though we can spot the end while standing on the banks. We chart carefully what we suppose to be its range, and head in the opposite direction of it. No one will want to cut trees near the lake - the ground there is not stable and the trees are scrawny and fewer. A few miles away from the lake, we find the forest once again crowded and lush.

We play Branchball a few nights, when we aren't so tired. One night, I team up with Lore, Johanna, and Trew. Johanna actually manages to snag the smaller ball from Kri, winning us the game. Even though we all know it is because Kri is a miserable Branchball player, we laugh and congratulate her on it the rest of the trip. Johanna's face shines the entire time, and I know that she's remembering what I said to her by the fire, "If you do well at Branchball, there's a good chance that you'll make it home and out again." I can tell that she enjoys being in the Crescent Moon Troop, feels comforted by our sense of family. By the end of the week, she's brought down her own rabbit, which is practically a coming-of-age factor for us. She's allowed to eat the entire thing herself. It's probably the most she's eaten in her life.

On the last day, we have looped around the long way, exploring the last length of territory we need to. I have the map, making adjustments and additions as we walk along. I glance at the map, a reliable one by now. My heart swells, as it always does, at the sight of something that we have all worked together to achieve. My pen mixes with Lore, Riccy, Trew, Kri, Lyda, Poy, and even Johanna's. I don't want another of our times together to end.

At the edge of the clearing, we all stop and glance around at each other, faces sad. We all know that the time has come to put back on the masks and to return to the world where Peacekeepers patrol the streets, where people starve, and children die on the television. Lyda's looking at me, and I know that she wants her goodbye hug. I open my arms and she warmly embraces me, her face burying into my chest. "See you, Faw."

"See you, Ly," I tell her, giving her a squeeze and letting her go. She smiles at me.

"Hey," Lore complains. "Don't I get a goodbye hug?"

I laugh and lightly punch his arm; a feat I know would give me trouble with Peacekeepers watching. "That's the closest you're ever getting to a hug from me," I tell him, and he laughs.

I give Poy a hug too, and he pats my back, but we don't exchange words. Riccy, whose arm is still wrapped in bandages and is healing quickly, gives me a smile and a shoulder pat. Kri does a little dance with me, spinning me around, and I smile at him. Trew just smiles. Johanna, I notice, is standing watching us all with surprise. Did she expect this? Did she know that our friendship must end when we leave the forest?

"It has to be this way, Anna," I tell her.

She looks near tears. "But why?"

"The Peacekeepers can't know how close we are," I explain. "if they did, they'd worry about us sparking a rebellion." As I say 'rebellion' something changes in Johanna's eyes. Is it fear? Or eagerness? A flash and then it's gone; too quick for me to interpret.

"Scared of teenagers," Johanna mutters, glancing at me and the others saying goodbye. "Scared of poor, young, desperate teenagers."

"Terrified," I correct her. "Scared out of their wits." Then I smile and pat her back. "Don't worry, though, you aren't loosing us. Now that that," I motion to the crescent moon, pale as a scar, near her ear, "is on your face, you are forever one of us. If you ever need anything, just call on us."

"And there's the Branchball game," Riccy adds.

I jump, not knowing that she was listening. Then I smile. "And there's the Branchball game."

It is in this fashion that we leave the forest as calm and distant shadows, joining the Peacekeepers on the worn dirt rode.

**~~BTCS~~**

"Will you come?  
Will you fly  
beneath the crystal sky?"

Creta and Aria smile at me, a flash of white in the darkness. Their eyes still sparkle with relief that I am home, safe. With a small smile of my own, I smooth the blanket and give them eat a kiss on their foreheads. "Goodnight, my nymph, my sprite."

"Goodnight, Sparrow," they reply in unison. Creta adds, "I'm glad you're home. I don't like it when you're gone. Mamma always worries so much..."

My heart twisting with regret for their worries, I smooth her hair back. "I'm not going anywhere, Sprite."

Aria's bright eyes blink at me in the weak moonlight streaming through the holes in the wall. "Yes, you are," she accuses. "you're going to see Web."

"Yes," I agree. "but I'll be right back. I promise. I'm only going to take him some rabbit." They nod, but don't allow me to leave until I swear that I will be quick about my errand. With several more 'goodnight's, I duck around the curtain and into the main room.

My mother glances towards me from where she sits, witling down a piece of stray wood. I glance at it. It appears to be a small bird in the making. "Visiting Web?" she asks.

I smile and nod, grabbing a woven basket and place a rabbit leg inside it. I steal another glance at my mother's slouched, tired form, and my heart aches. Despite my help, she still has to work day and night to support us. And Aria, too, has to work too often. If I had money, I'd make sure that they both never worked a day in their lives again.

I give my mother's shoulder a pat. "Don't wait up for me. I'll be fine. You need the rest." She nods, though I know she won't sleep until I am home.

Pulling on my patched and frayed cloak to protect from the chilling wind, I sweep out of the house without a backward glance; into the woods. My stride is confident, fueled by the reassurance of the knife sitting in the basket beside the rabbit. Let coyotes attack me now. They'll get the last and greatest surprise of their life.

It doesn't take me long to reach the isolated clearing where Web has set up his shack. Predictably, the old man is sitting in the grass, gazing up at the stars. Wordlessly, I join him, gazing up at the crystal. Some believe that the stars are our ancestors, calmly watching, waiting for us to join them. Others believe that the ancestors are the trees, still helping us by providing our livelihood.

"You are back," Web's slow, old voice comments.

I nod, replying slowly as well. "I am back." Our gazes do not leave the crystal.

"The girl, Johanna, is fine." It is no question. I haven't a clue as to how Web knows, but I don't question him. Web is one of those people you can't surprise because he seems to already know everything there is to know. So I simply respond, "Yes."

A long moment of silence passes before Web turns to face me. His dark eyes meet mine and he gazes into them as raptly as he had the stars. Finally, I blink and hand him the basket. "It's rabbit."

Web nods and accepts the basket. I wonder if he has been given fresh meat for the week I was gone. Web is valued for the entertainment he gives Sawdust in his stories and songs. WE feed him to keep the entertainment alive, but some are jealous of his easy life. Many people struggle to catch meat, too, so Web normally depends on me for a constant supply of food. I could sell the food I give him for a good price, but I find Web and his words fascinating. The official papers in Redwood are yet to be signed, but Web has asked me to be his apprentice, and I have accepted.

So far, being Web's apprentice has been dull. In fact, little has changed between us. I bring food, Web speaks little to nothing. He has, however, chanted the story of Paul Bunyon to me upon occasion, and I am currently in the process of memorizing it. It begins, "Have you ever heard of Paul Bunyon/A man oh so tall/With an ox as blue as the sky?/Old Paul Bunyon, he could stretch as tall as the sky/the big blue sky was the color of his ox/And Paul could stretch that high." And it goes on to tell of how many trees Paul could cut down with a single stroke, how he gave to the poor, and scorned the Capitol. He was loved by everyone in District 7, and the other districts as well. However, tragically, his only son was reaped and died in the Hunger Games. Paul, distraught, soon died of depression.

All of the stories end sadly like thus to keep Peacekeepers happy; to remind the listeners of what happens to those of us foolish enough to defy the Capitol. But inside our own heads, we all have our own happily rebellious endings.

"Web?" I ask. "Part of being an Entertainer is making up new things, right?"

He answers after his predictable pause, "Yes. Like that lullaby you made for your sisters." He hums a few bars of it, and I smile and join him. "Do you have an idea for a story?" he wants to know.

I shrug. "I do have something, but it may not be very good. I cannot think of a good ending that will please me and the Peacekeepers." I pause, knowing that Web will wait for me to go on. "It is set to song," I tell him, and begin it.

"Once upon a time so near  
My memory remains clear  
Of a girl, dark and fair;  
Of a boy, bright and tough;  
She brave and stubborn,  
He kind and loving.  
The two made for each other.

"They never spoke  
Only stole  
Glances from afar.  
She love her sister;  
He his art.  
She was starving, she was grieving  
for a father lost.  
He was unhappy,  
Sick of stealing  
Glances from afar.

"Secretly, he gave her food.  
She ate and did not starve.  
Her sister fed, and by the bread  
They did not starve.

"She began to steal  
Glances from afar  
As he had all along.  
Though never did their gazes meet  
Until fateful Reaping Day.

"Her sister reaped,  
She began to panic,  
Volunteered her life, she did,  
She volunteered as tribute.  
He was chosen,  
Chosen as tribute,  
A prize for the Capitol,  
the both of them,  
A tribute to peace.

"He confessed his love for her,  
Her pride held her back.  
Yet in the nightmare world they dwelled in,  
It was in the nightmare that she found  
She felt the same way  
Though she could not tell him so,  
Tribute she was,  
Dead she would be,  
Pride kept her true feelings  
Inside.

"But she was attacked  
By those he trusted.  
He defended her  
And nearly died  
As she ran away.

"She plotted revenge  
Against those he had trusted  
And revenge she got.  
While they hungered, they killed her helper,  
A girl who could sing,  
Just a girl who could sing,  
A tribute to peace,  
A tribute to revenge.

"She sought him out  
Though he was dying  
She was the medicine that he needed.  
And slowly he improved.  
Still she worried, and nearly died.  
Medicine he needed, and she nearly died,  
Nearly died to get it."

I clear my throat, letting the climatic notes die in the silence. "I haven't gotten further."

Web is silent for a long, long time. I study his old, bent posture, searching for the right words to describe it. Finally, he tells me, "That wasn't bad, not at all, for your first attempt. It was a good story, which means you must be careful not to let it be rebellious in its ending."

"But how should I end it?" I asked. "I want them both to live, defy the Capitol, and live together forever, but that won't please Peacekeepers. They'll want them both dead."

"Then kill them," We said. He waved away my protests. "My mentor," he said in his gravelly voice, "Once recited the ending he wanted, and he was found dead the next week." My silence spoke my shock for me. "You must be careful," Web told me. "The Capitol doesn't tolerate anything that could even be considered rebellious. They will kill you in an instant, with no regret, and no second thoughts." Suddenly, Web looked vaguely amused. "As they will me, when I decide when my time has come."

My eyes are wide. Web plans to let the Peacekeepers kill him? But that is suicide! "But ... Web ..."

He shakes his head, waving me off. "You'll understand someday, when you have an apprentice of your own. Now, leave me." I search Web's old face for answers, but his gaze has returned to the stars, and eventually, I slip away, back to home.

**~~~BTCS~~~**

My sisters run with the other children their age, laughing and giggling loudly. I smile happily as Creta makes the wooden bird Mom was carving a few night ago fly. The day is warmer than a week ago - we travel with our cloaks tucked away, and walk freely along the beds with our huts atop them. Somewhere far ahead, a battered old truck slowly pulls the beds forward, and us with them. We are near the back of the line, which means less Peacekeepers, perched in makeshift cabins atop the beds, are in sight.

Mother walks beside me, smiling slightly to herself. Of course, despite the ghastly Hunger Games that we are heading to, this week-long walk is the closest we get to a holiday. I hum the song of the star crossed boy and girl to myself as I walk, wondering where Web walked and with whom. Was he old enough to remember walking to the first Hunger Game, 70 years ago? If anyone could, it would be Web. He was the oldest person I knew of, besides President Snow, of course.

Suddenly, a call came from the front. "Sap! Just ahead! Sap!" and excitement spreads through Sawdust like a wildfire. I turn to my sisters, grabbing Aria and spinning her around and around, not admitting to myself that my excitement is mostly because River is with Sap right now, right up ahead. Aria giggles, "Stop! Stop!" until I put her down. Creta demands that she gets a turn and soon we're both spinning until we fall to the ground, laughing. When the world has stopped spinning, I help Creta up.

Aria is jumping up and down, ecstatic. "Pine Needles is with them! Pine Needles!" And I'm beaming at luck. Lore's sweetheart, Jessica, is from Pine Needles. I shall not be the only subject of teasing tonight in the Crescent Moon Troop.

The beds are beginning to move faster now. I boost Aria and Creta onto the walls of our dismantled hut and they scream in exhilaration as we near where Pine Needles and Sap are assembling their huts, having caught sight of us. We stop just by where the two converge, and we are immediately getting our huts down. Fueled by excitement, Mom and I have our hut up in less than fifteen minutes.

"Fawn! Sparrow!" my sisters call to me, tugging me inside the hut. "Help us! Help us!" Smiling, I take out two of my old Reaping dresses. Both are dirty and fraying, but without holes and still retaining their bright, cheery colorings of red and brown. As I help my sisters into the dresses, even Aria cannot suppress a squeal of excitement. They spin to let the skirts fan out and I applaud them. Mother is laughing and taking the spidery brush out.

Just then, there is a knock on the doorway. I turn, knowing I will see Riccy there. Her arms are crossed, but she's smiling. "Fawn," she says. "You were supposed to come to my hut."

My skin turns pink as I remember the talk about River in the forest. "Oh, right. I forgot." Of course I hadn't, not really. I'd just chosen to ignore it, and it seems Riccy knows that.

"Well, Lyda, Johanna, and I have been waiting for you. And Lore, Poy, Kri, and Trew had mysteriously disappeared in search of someone." Laughter gleams in her eyes and I go from pink to red. Are the boys really talking to River about me?

"Lore is probably out looking for Jessica," I say, faking nonchalance.

Riccy laughs aloud at this, shaking her freshly brushed blonde hair out of her eyes. "He probably is," she admitted, "but he claimed to be looking for River."

"River?" Mom beats me to the response. "River Arbre? The boy that ..." Wisely, she trails off before she can reveal that I speak about him to her. But my cheeks go to scarlet nonetheless.

Riccy seems to have understood what my mother didn't say. She grins, "That's the one, Mrs. Dogwood. Can I steal Fawn?"

My mother's eyes dart to my flaming face and back to Riccy. When she speaks, I think I detect a hint of amusement in her voice. "Of course. I trust she'll be safe in your hands, Miss Wristine Longshadow?"

"It's not my hands you'll have to worry about," Riccy laughs. "It's River's." And she drags a protesting Fawn away.

**~~~~BTCS~~~~**

"Wow." I glance into the mirror and my jaw literally drops. What the female members of the Crescent Moon Troop accomplished in only 20 minutes is astonishing. I have been transformed from rough and beaten to ... pretty. The dress that Riccy offered me is long, going to my ankles, and the maker had used enough fabric to bunch the skirt at the bottom. The fabric itself used to be a bright green with shining golden designs around the neck and edges, but has now faded to a shadow of the past. All the same, its beauty is still great - stunning, even. Lyda has brushed my hair to no end so that my skull aches, but my hair lies shining and smooth, a simple braid lying over my flat hair, tied back with a rope. When I move, the heavy skirt does too, swaying delicately.

"Guys," I turn to their waiting, eager faces, and cannot help but smile at them. "I ... thank you ... I'm pretty."

They embrace me, their own skirts rustling as they do so. "You're not pretty," Lyda tells me. "You're ravishing - the best District 7 has to offer. River will be blown away."

"The best?" I ask. "When Jessica is around?" but I ruffle her fire-hair affectionately all the same.

"Now, just remember, River's still an enemy in Branchball," Riccy tells me, pulling away to straighten my braid. "We won't play tonight, but I can't have you getting soft on him."

I smile and fake a salute. "Yes, ma'am."

A knock comes from the doorway of Riccy's hut. I glance over and my heart stops. A very awkward-looking River is standing in the midst of Lore, Kri, Trew, and Poy, looking their finest. River's clothes are clean and un-tattered, which is nearly a miracle, considering he lives in a hut like the rest of us. I cannot stop myself form admiring how well muscled he is as he sweeps his long black hair out of his bright green eyes, which find my plain nut brown ones. I blink and tear my gaze away, straightening my skirt.

"Hello, ladies," Lore has his cocky grin on him as he struts into the hut. It's then that I notice a thin, curvy girl in a light brown dress with her arm looped in Lore's. Her skirt is nearly as long as mine, which shows that she is fairly wealthy. The length of a woman's skirt is important in District 7, especially at a wedding. Her long brown hair is naturally wavy, and she smiles at me, giving me a little wave. I recognize that wave immediately and wave back to Lore's sweetheart, Jessica Moonbeam.

"Hello, Mr. Alberry, Miss Moonbeam," Riccy and Lyda say together, curtsying with their shin-length skirts. Johanna does not move, staying at my side. Whatever the reason - that she is uncomfortable being the youngest or having the shortest skirt - I am intensely grateful to her for not partaking in the rest of the troop's foolishness.

"So sorry to disturb," Kri tells us. "but we wanted to escort young River here. We couldn't have him getting lost."

"Speaking of which," Lore interjects, "we did have a long talk with him, Fawn." Lore seems to be waiting for me to comment, but I offer nothing, standing still and silent and studying him. "We have decided that your judgment is sound on this boy. You have our permission to be with him."

There is silence, and all eyes (including River's) are on me. I blush beet red, and cry, "Lore!" in my most indignant voice, and the Crescent Moon Troop bursts into laughter. Even Jessica and Johanna chuckle. Using their laughter and momentary distraction, I offer River an apologetic smile. He beams back, all signs of awkwardness gone.

"The festival will be starting soon," he tells me. "will you come with me?" He stretches out his hand. Amid the troop's laughter, I accept his hand and, in a rustle of skirt, we leave without further comment.

As soon as we are out of hearing distance, I apologize. "I'm so sorry. They just like a good laugh."

River is beaming at the troop, my words, or maybe just being with me. I know my smile is caused by the latter. "It's all right," he reassures me. His voice is warm and high, but not too high. Perfect. "Our troop is like that, too." At the mention of his troop, my eyes fly to the swirling mark just above the bridge of his nose. Sap's troop's identification mark.

"I'd like to meet your troop," I offer meekly, wondering how he will respond. "Mist Troop, right?"

"Right." He looks genuinely pleased that I knew. Stopping, he lets go of my hand to touch my own mark gently. "Crescent Moon Troop, right?" I can't seem to breathe, so I just nod. His hand rests on my cheekbone a moment longer before he withdraws it, looking embarrassed. "Sorry." His tanned and toned skin is blushing.

I find my voice. "It's all right." A grin creeps onto my face as humor takes over. "The troop's permission has been given."

River smiles and regains possession of my hand. "And your mother and sister's as well." I turn a new shade of red. Then, conversationally, he asks, "Would you like to meet my family?"

My hand automatically clenches in worry, but he's smiling. "All right," I manage. "Yeah. I'd like that very much."

He smiles and squeezes my hand reassuringly, pulling me behind a lone tree for privacy from the excited crowds. His hand cups my face again and I'm staring into his bright green eyes. "Do you remember when we first met?"

"Of course I do." We were both only 11, new to the troops and on the young side for even trainees. Sap and Sawdust were travelling together to Redwood for some long-forgotten reason. Naturally, one night, the troops got together for some friendly competition of Branchball. As the smallest, River and I were typically at the top-most branches. We were, therefore, in constant war with each other until River tagged me, and I was out.

His voice brings me back from the past. "I knew that day that the bird-girl flying around the treetops was the one for me."

"That day?" my voice is rough and, suddenly, I wish that I could afford matching slippers and jewelry to go with my dress instead of bare arms and work boots hidden under my skirt.

"That day." He confirms, and kisses me on the forehead. It's not much, but it is enough to make my body become engulfed in an inferno of feeling.

"I've missed you, River." I realize aloud.

Glancing up, I see his infectious grin again. "I've missed you, too, Fawn. Now, don't you worry about meeting my family. They'll love you. Everyone does. You're irresistible."

Irresistible? I am merely pretty. River must be delusional to think of me as irresistible. All the same, I blush and stammer out my thanks like a fool. Grinning again, River takes my arm and leads me to a hut set up nearby, knocking lightly upon the doorway.

Inside, a slightly older man is speaking with a young couple. Both of the men show distinct similarities to River, sharing dark hair and green eyes. The woman is round with an expectant child, only a few months away if my eyes do not deceive me. All of them bear the swirling mark that is the symbol of the Mist Troop. Though they are far too old to still be in the Troop, the mark remains as a sign to Peacekeepers that they are likely troublemakers. At River and my own appearance, their conversation ends and smiles are passed around.

The man steps forward first, smiling warmly at me. "I am River's father. Welcome, my dear. Come in."

I accept his outstretched hand, though we do not shake. My other hand is still tight in River's grasp. I find his tight grip comforting. "I am Fawn Dogwood. It's nice to meet you, Mr. Arbre."

He laughs. "Now, I won't have any of this 'Mr. Arbre' garbage. I'm not that old, not yet, anyway. Please, dear, call me Byron."

I smile, stepping into the cool hut, and immediately missing the sunshine. River follows me in. "Byron." I repeat.

Byron motions to the couple. "This is my son, Tyrone, and his wife, Lily." I shake Tyrone's hand, and Lily embraces me before I can stretch my hand to her. After a moment of hesitation, I return the hug, noting her unusually long auburn hair that fans around her like a cape.

"It's so nice to meet you all," I say, returning to River's side and taking his hand again.

Lily smiles gently at me, having that air of tiredness that I heard in my mother's voice while we were awaiting Aria and Creta. "The pleasure is ours to finally meet River's Fawn."

My blush deepens as drums begin to beat together somewhere in the distance. Surely that is where Web is now, with the other few Entertainers, beginning the beat that will call Sap, Pine Needles, and Sawdust to the festival. Vaguely, I wonder if I am expected to meet the other Entertainers and perform tonight, as part of my apprenticeship. I promise myself that I will seek out Web soon and find out.

"Tell us about yourself, Fawn," Byron brings me out of my wonderings. "You are in Sawdust's troop, yes?"

I nod. "I am." Smiling, I tough the crescent moon with my free hand, as though I could feel it. "I live with my mother and sisters, Aria and Creta. And our Entertainer, Web, has offered to take me on as his apprentice." I glance over at River to see his reaction to this last comment. Will he think me lazy? To my relief, I see only pride and happiness on his face.

"And you accepted?" Tyrone seems less happy about my apprenticeship than River.

I nod, meeting his eyes. Please let his accept me, I sent my prayer to our ancestors, in the sky or the trees. "I did." Tyrone glances from me to River, and then nods in acceptance.

Suddenly, Lily laughs. "She'll be a good Entertainer, too! Just look at her!" It is only then that I notice my entire body is moving slightly, keeping time with the drums. I stop immediately, embarrassed, and a laugh rushes through the Arbres.

A knock comes from the doorway. River and I turn to see a group of three boys and three girls. His hand tightens on mine, soundlessly telling me who they are, though I already recognize them. Mist Troop - River's troop. For a moment, Mist Troop and I silently size each other up. Then I stick my hand out to a girl randomly. "Fawn Dogwood."

She glances at me from her shorter frame. Despite her height, I can tell that she is my age or older. After a moment, she accepts my hand. "Elfie."

A tall brunette pushes Elfie aside. "Moxie." She pulls me closer. "Be careful with River. He's a party animal. Don't be fooled by his kind demeanor! And don't let him drink around you." River lets out a cry of protest, and I laugh despite myself. Our troops are so similar that I can't help it. The other girl takes my hand. She has the typical stocky build and prominent nose/chin that is subject to the district and introduces herself as Piper.

A small and wiry boy named Guy warns me that River will take advantage of me, but with a joking smile. The other boys are about 18, dark, and identical twins. They are called Lake and Robin. I smile politely at them, trying to forget our friendly competition from over the years and see them just as River's friends.

Moxie, the one who warned me about River's drinking problems, smiles at me after I have shaken Robin's hand. "I like your dress," she tells me. "It's so ... long. And pretty."

I blush. "Thanks. My friend, Riccy Longshadow, let me borrow it." Of course, they'd know Riccy from Branchball. I attempt to reply in accordance with girl talk. "I like yours, too." The skirt reaches her mid-leg, and is an emerald green.

"Thanks," she smiles. "but you can't borrow it." I laugh in response, part of my mind preoccupied with River, part with the drums' beat, and the last with the conversation. Perhaps River sees this, because he takes my hand and says that we're going on to the festival, so long as no one had any objections. Of course they do not, and we sweep off towards the drums.

**~~~~~BTCS~~~~~**

An Entertainer has brought out a lute. Its lively, carefree melody has drawn most of the population of Pine Needles, Sawdust, and Sap to the circle of lone trees. The dance is fast, and I join without hesitation, dragging River behind me. "I can't dance!" he calls to me over the drums, the lute, and the rhythmic clapping and stomping.

I smile in amusement. "Anyone can dance!" I reply, joining the line of girls. We twirl and stomp, clapping our hands over our heads several times, establishing the rhythm and a steady pattern. My eyes close, and I let the drumming become my feet, and the lute my arms. My eyes snap open, anticipating the moment we all call, "Hey!" and rush forward to dance around our individual partners as the music quickens. One by one, the boys join us so that we are circling some unseen spot faster and faster until the music gives a flourish, and everything ends.

Cheers rise up above the never-ending, underlying beat of the drums. Yes, the people of District 7 love to dance. No matter that two children of ours are about to die, or that, even now, Peacekeepers patrol all around us. I cheer and laugh with the others, caught up in the excitement and wonder of our festival.

A slower tune begins, and a stringed instrument accompanies the lute. River extends his hand to me. "Will we dance, Lady?"

I smile and raise my skirt so that the tips of my work boots can be seen. "Of course, Lord River." I accept his hand and his other finds my hip. I'm surprised at how strong his grip is as I place my hand on his arm. Then we're slowly moving around.

"River," I say. "tell me about yourself." Because he lives in Sap, I know regretfully little about what he does in his spare time.

He spins me around, his face calm and concentrating, as though he is finding even this slow, mindless dance complicated. "What do you want to know?"

"Oh, anything, really."'

I shrug. "Favorite colors?"

He considers. Typically, anyone in District 7 would reply green and brown, so I am surprised when he says, "Red and purple. What about you?"

"Dark blue and silver. Like the twilight sky." He smiles and nods, perhaps envisioning the sky. "Favorite tree?"

"Willow," he answers immediately. Again, I am surprised. Willow trees are uncommon; we are too far north for them to grow in abundance. But I can see why he likes them. Their long, sweeping branches hide everything inside.

I realize that he is waiting for my response. "Pine," I say "it reminds me of my dad."

He hesitates before asking the forbidden question. "Your father. He's dead, isn't he?"

"Wildfire," I say curtly. "Creta was just a newborn. Your mother. What about her?"

His face darkens like I'm sure mine has. "She died in labor. Little Ivy died a week later."

There is an awkward silence. "I'm sorry." I say

"So am I," Silence. Then, he offers, "what about a family one day? Do you want kids?"

I nod quickly, heart thumping. I know the importance of this conversation and it worries me. "As many as I can afford. You?" He nods agreement and I briefly imagine a home that is ours, full of green-eyed children everywhere.

"Fawn?" His voice is sudden.

I glance up and meet his eyes. "Yes?"

He pulls me to the side, away from the dancing. He kneels and my breath catches in my throat. "Your family and friends have given their approval of me, and mine yours," he says, eyes nervous. "Now I ask yours. Do I have your permission to begin our courtship and our lives together?"

My heart is pounding. "Yes," I say before I realize that my word was inaudible. "Yes," I say, louder, "Yes!" He jumps up and spins me around. Our courtship signals only that we are a couple. We are not engaged. We are simply giving each other a chance. And, as we spin around under the crystal sky, I think I know what will come of this chance.


	4. I CHOSEN

**PART I. BEGINNING.  
CHAPTER 4. CHOSEN.**

_This one's coming out a bit quicker. I took the time to write a lot this week, as those who have me on author alert will know :p anyway, this chapter is very, very important as we begin to move to one of our bigger plotline. The 70th Hunger Games. Review or message me, please! Little bits mean a lot. A lot a lot. :)_

**~BTCS~**

Aria's face is oddly serious. Her stride is longer than usual, her spine taller. She wears her school outfit, which she works in when necessary, though it is freshly washed. This morning, she and I found a stream and scrubbed the clothes as clean as we could make them. It was a treat to have running water to do so. Typically, the few thawed streams are guarded by Peacekeepers for drinking purposes only, and whatever other water is needed is thawed from heaps of snow. Not even now, when brown, dead grass is visible, poking through the snow, do we dare bathe in such streams. We all remember the warning tales of frozen children from our mothers.

"Now, Aria," I say to my sister in a very business-like tone. "Don't be nervous. No one's expecting you to win the game for us."

Aria blinks, startled. "Oh, I'm not nervous. It's just ..." Looking embarrassed, she lowers her voice to a near whisper. "Are Peacekeepers going to be around, watching us?"

I feel the pang I always do when Aria acts too old for her age, forced by circumstance to be so. Children shouldn't have to be frightened of Peacekeepers or work hard, cutting down saplings and stacking lumber. At least, I comfort myself, I have insisted that Aria takes no tesserea, even though I have thirty-five slips of paper in the glass ball that Garnish Gleam will pick the tributes out of tomorrow. Mentally, I slap myself. I can't think about this. Not now, in Festival Time. "Peacekeepers are everywhere," I tell Aria carefully. "Especially when the Troops congregate."

My hand is on Aria's back comfortingly when Trew and Johanna appear. At the sight of them, Aria shakes off my hand and straightens her back to that perfect line again. I sigh and greet my troop mates, "Hey, Joey. Ew."

Johanna chuckles at Trew's old, despised nickname, shooting him a teasing glance. "Ew? I haven't heard that one."

"I refuse to comment," Ignoring Johanna and my own laughter, Trew smiles at Aria, clapping her back. "It's our wild card, Aria Dogwood! How are you feeling today, Air?"

Aria and I both grin at her first newly-appointed Crescent Moon Troop nickname. "I'm fine." my sister's easy-going tone is far to mature for my taste.

I nod to Johanna. "How is the festival faring with our Anna, eh? Found any ... dancing partners?"

Unfazed by my teasing, Johanna only shakes her head. "Though, I suppose your 'dancing partner' will be joining us with his troop today, won't he? You won't be going soft on Sap on us like Riccy thought, will you, Fawn?"

"They call themselves the Mist Troop," I say, before I can stop myself. The trio before me laughs.

"Has he begun courtship?" Trew wants to know.

I open my mouth to answer, but Aria beats me to it. "The first night of the Festival. It was very sudden. I suspect he couldn't even bear to wait any longer." They begin to laugh again, and I frown at my sister. She gives me a slightly apologetic smile, and I let the conversation drop.

By this time, we have reached the small cluster of pine trees, nearly thawed by the arrival of summer. Under it is the remainder of the Crescent Moon Troop, as well as most of Mist Troop, Pine Needles, Walnut, and Pinecone's troops as well, the latter of which joined our festival last night, when we reached Redwood. Upon meeting, the Troops had arranged this game of Branchball quickly, so that it can be done before Festival Time ends, and the Hunger Games begins.

Crescent Moon Troop greats us, and I can spot the signs of nervousness in their body language. Poy is tapping his fingers on his leg, unable to deal with the anticipation motionless. Kri is blabbing on and on to Lyda about types of trees, and she isn't able to concentrate on his words. Riccy is finger-combing her hair. Johanna is looking around at the other Troops, unable to expel her look of nervousness. Even Trew's toe is tapping slightly. In fact, Aria seems to be the calmest of us all.

When River enters the cluster of trees, his feet crunching the mostly-flattened snow, he heads over to our troop before his own. My heart fluttering, I wave. He waves back, smiling, and stops three feet away from us. Kri stops talking and Poy's fingers freeze as we wait for him to speak. I'm grinning uncontrollably at the mere sight of him.

"Good day, Crescent Moon Troop," River says to the others, giving the District 7 salute - right hand on his heart, left raised to the sky. It's a sign of respect, and the troop relaxes upon seeing it, quickly returning it. River, still smiling, envelopes me in a hug. After a moment, he pulls away, gazing at my slightly clean, ripped and tattered work clothes. "So this is what you look like normally."

I smile slightly. "Not so beautiful, I know." But you're still just as beautiful, I add in my head.

He shakes his head. "No, that's where you're wrong. If anything, you're more beautiful this way. Much, much more beautiful. Realistic." I grin, disbelief written across my features, but feeling gratitude all the same.

River lets me go and turns to Aria. "And how is Miss Aria doing today?"

"Just fine," she smiles a bit. I know that she like River.

"And I trust your mother and Creta are just fine as well, under your capable and wonderful care?" River smiles back at her.

She nods in agreement, saying, "My care, capable and wonderful as it is, is what is available since you steal our Fawn at every moment that you can." River laughs, delighted by her sense of humor. Aria sticks out her hand, and he shakes it.

"Good luck today," River wishes her.

Aria laughs. "Good luck to you, too. You'll need it." Then River's giving me another hug, and walking off to his own troop. Feeling it is my duty, I stick my left hand in the air and my right on my heart, nodding to the Mist Troop, and they return it. Feeling remotely less burdened, I turn back to find my own troop back to their worrisome habits.

When the teams have all been given their two balls, the small and the large, and the rules have been settled upon (each troop plays a bit differently), we climb into our places in the trees. Someone from Walnut calls out, "Go!" and suddenly, the small balls are whizzing everywhere. Poy, possessing our larger ball, acts quickly, and upsets the branch that someone from Pinecone was on, making it a hard catch for them. Riccy goes after the large ball. My eyes fly over to Aria, who is reaching out to catch the smaller ball. I can tell before it's left Kri's hand that it won't go far enough, and fly through the branches of the trees, just barely catching it. The moment it touches my hand, it is flying to Lyda.

Suddenly, I register movement behind me, and act without thinking, dropping through the branches and onto the ground, like I did the first night in the forest, only nowhere near so high. After navigating my way back up another tree, I see Moxie from Mist Troop looking surprised, right where I just was. Laughing, I wave to her, and she waves back. Of course, the hardest part of this game of Branchball, is being aware of your swiftly changing surroundings. Even as I climb up the tree, I have to dodge three attempts to tag me out.

I stop, panting for breath. Directly above me, someone (I don't know which troop they come from) is throwing the small ball to a teammate. I hold my breath. If they see me, they could easily drop down a branch or so and tag me. However, they seem preoccupied scanning the trees for someone or something. Still holding my breath, I climb up and up, until I'm close enough to reach up and -

"Ah!" the person cries out, glancing down. Now I can see his dark hair and face. I don't recognize him. My hand darts forward, but he's moved slightly. Growling in frustration, I climb up more and reach again. But he's fleeing now, jumping and climbing and maneuvering his way out of the tree. I continue after him, swinging from branch to branch like the demon monkeys that were in the arena last year, soundlessly. Finally, the boy glances around, and that's all the hesitation I need to catch up and bring my hand down hard on his arm. "You're out!" I cry in jubilance.

For a moment, the boy looks stunned, then he smiles. "Nice move," he says. "I'm Quint from Pine Needles."

I nod to him. "Fawn from Sawdust." Now that I think about it, I do recognize him from the dancing. But I'm already looking away, around at the chaos of the Game before me. I'll have to escort Quint to the ground before I can rejoin the game. Sensing my impatience, Quint heads down the trees, until he stops at the foot of one and sits. I nod to him, and he gives me a salute that I don't have the time to return.

I loose myself in the Game. I don't have possession of the smaller ball much. Mostly, I run for the larger one, throwing it to unbalance people and attempting to tag them. I tag two more people before taking a moment to catch my breath. By a glance at the pile of people sitting out, I can see that Riccy, Lyda, Lore and Kri are out. That leaves Aria, Johanna, Poy, Trew, and myself. We have more than the other teams, who are mostly down to three or four. River is still playing, as is Moxie.

A branch moves ever-so-slightly behind me, and I drop. However, I hear the whoosh of someone else following, and reach out to swing on a branch to another tree. My pursuer stops a bit below me, but keeps up well. I mount a branch and climb up, working my way through the smaller, less stable branches. A bulky boy would not be able to follow me. However, my pursuer stays close behind me, and I know that I'll have to be trickier.

I fling myself to another tree, falling to nearly its base and weaving expertly around the branches. Then, with a jolt, I'm climbing back up, and up and up, until I'm at the topmost branches and completely out of breath. Only then do I allow myself to look back and see Elphie and Moxie, from Mist Troop, weaving their way after me. They smile at me, panting as I am, and my heart plummets. I can hardly evade the two of them. Then, behind them, I see a small shape climbing soundlessly. Aria. I don't have to look at her a moment longer to know our plan. I climb swiftly to the end of the branch and glance down to be sure. Yes, there is Poy, ready to catch me.

Trying not to over think the disastrous possibilities of this, I fling myself off the branch, whizzing down past fooled Elphie and Moxie, right into Poy's arms. He laughs lightly and puts me down. "Thank you," I choke out, glancing around. It's dangerous to be on the ground. I duck as a large ball comes whistling by.

"No big deal," he answers, keeping out a sharp eye for more balls.

I see someone dropping, and we quickly begin to climb the tree I just came from. "Who's out?" I pant.

"Riccy, Lyda, Lore, Kri, and Trew," he answers. "That leaves you, me, Aria, and Johanna." I nod and concentrate on climbing. A small wooden ball whizzes to us from a high-above-us Johanna, and Poy catches, tossing it to me. I toss it back, and he returns it to me. We continue this, moving when possible, and keeping the ball safe. Above us, Johanna, Aria, Elfie, and Moxie are evading and attacking each other, but not making contact.

A voice from the onlookers calls out, "Pine Needles' has lost! Too many players tagged!" There can be no less than two on a team. When only one remains, the team is out. Poy and I grin. One team out of the way. Briefly, I think of how disappointed Quint and his team must be, but I push it effectively out of my mind as I catch the ball again.

A moment later, a victory cry comes from above. Then several more. Poy and I watch carefully as the girls drop out of the tree, trying to figure who was tagged. I cheered as Moxie and Elfie sat down, along with my sister, whom I gave an apologetic smile to. She grinned back, motioning for me to play. Johanna came over to us, holding the large ball tight, and I tossed the ball to her with congratulations. She beams as Walnut's small ball is captured by Pinecone, and they, too, are out.

"I'll go try and catch some balls," I tell them, smiling, and they nod, passing the ball back and forth, back and forth. If I get out, they will have a hard time winning. Swinging up to a higher branch, I see that Pinecone only has two left, passing their ball frantically. Mist Troop has three, like us, River, Guy, and Piper. River is approaching the frantic Pinecone Troop, but they keep evading him. I swing towards them, silent as an arrow. As much as I like Mist Troop, they have to loose.

Piper sees me coming and drops, giving Guy a hard throw as he attempts to maneuver down as well. He just evades me, and I make a face, frustrated. I can't startle them, not now. But I can try. I drop, glancing up in time to see River catch Pinecone's ball. The crowd calls this out, and Guy is just distracted enough for me to tag. Piper has not choice but to send the ball flying to River, who only manages to catch it. His face shows surprise that I have come after them, and I melt into the trees, effectively disappearing and maneuvering away, behind Piper. They are both looking around wearily, and Johanna and Poy are watching eagerly from across the clump of trees.

I stop suddenly. Of course, Piper and River would expect me to come after Piper instead of River, or even try to catch the ball. How stupid I am! Their eyes do not even stray to the trees behind River. I slowly, carefully, invisibly, move to behind River. But, as I come in to tag him, he hears me. Of course he does - River's as good at this sport than anyone. He knows he can't flee, so he tosses the ball to Piper and lunges at me. He has to tag me quick, so Piper isn't in possession too long. But I drop, and he can't reach me or catch the ball in time.

It seems to me that the ball falls in slow motion to the ground. I drop again, until I'm flying down beside it. It hits the ground and so do I, my hand closing around it. I let out a great whoop as my finger's touched, as did the crowd as they realized what I'd done. I raised my fist and whooped again. "Crescent Moon Troop!" I cry. The crowd echoes me, even Piper and River joining in as they land beside me.

I turn shyly to them, wondering how River will react. He looks a bit surprised still, but Piper is smiling. She embraces me, and whispers, "If you hadn't done that, I wouldn't have thought you were right for him." I blush and laugh, thanking her. She releases me, beaming, and I turn to River.

He is laughing now, appearing very pleased. "You did good, Fawn. You did very good."

Resisting the urge to correct his grammar, I grin and hug him. "Thanks, River." And then the Crescent Moon Troop and my sister are all around me, cheering and grinning and laughing. We won.

**~~BTCS~~**

I smooth Creta's hair back from her face. She's wearing the same outfit that she has all of the Festival, but its colors appear drab and plain now, while they were alive and festive all of last night. Her face is tight with worry, just like mine, Aria's, and our mother's. We are all in our best, unhappily ready to leave the house for the square in Redwood where all the ceremonies are held. But this one, the Reaping itself, is the most nerve-wracking and dangerous of them all. Today two children leave. And in two weeks, they will probably both be dead.

Creta's name is not in the glass balls that Garnish Gleam will choose from. She is too young, and will be safe until five years from now, when I have long ago moved out and away, and Aria will be planning to do so. Aria herself is as safe as you can get with only one slip of paper, so I am the real one in jeopardy here, with my 35 slips. Of course, the odds are not entirely against me. Piper, whom I played against in Branchball last night, is the oldest of 9 siblings, and is eighteen. Her mother is dead, and father is badly maimed from a forest fire. She has 98 slips. The odds are entirely against her. Odds are, she or another unlucky person like her, will go to the Capitol tonight. Not one of the Dogwoods.

But all the same, we worry. We worry so much that we do not eat our share of the moose that River, Moxie, Lore, Johanna, and I shot down. We say that we'll save it for dinner, but none of us are fooled by this faulty reasoning.

When the sun is rising high in the sky, River and his family appear at our door, as grim and serious-faced as us. I immediately lace my fingers through River's, finding that odd comfort in the tight squeeze of his hand. We don't say a word, any of us, as we make our way out of the makeshift Sawdust, Sap, Pine Needles, Walnut, and Pinecone, and into the long streets of Redwood. There are three larger towns at the center of District 7, all connecting, but Redwood is the innermost one. It's buildings, which hold the wood processing factories, are tall and drab. In them, people work 14 hours a day, with one half hour break. At night, they sleep on the floors of their stations. I shudder at the thought of living in Redwood. A few years ago, disease ripped through the city, and half of District 7's population died. No, I am lucky to be in Sawdust.

My hand tightens in River's as the anticipation builds. We pass many unfortunate wood processing families, drab and worrisome as us. Their skin is baggy, while ours is toned. Their is pale and clammy, ours dark and healthy. I feel the same pang of sadness I always do when looking at them. Their only hope is for their girls, their daughters, sisters, and cousins, to marry into one of the moving towns and escape. Poy's girl, Bea, lives here. If neither of them are Reaped, they will both be 18, and be married as one of the many in the ceremonies immediately following the Hunger Games. The marriages are always pleasant after the trying time of the Hunger Games.

We reach the square. Aria embraces my mother and Creta, and I release River's hand to do the same to them. "It'll be all right," I whisper to them. "The odds are fine. Just fine." One last squeeze, and we separate. River, having just given similar goodbyes to his family, clutches my hand again. We walk Aria to her pen and she hugs me again. I reassure her, and she wipes away her tears, trying to be brave. "One slip," I tell her. "It's just one slip."

I don't let go of River's hand. We stop at the 16 year old pen. I stop here. River goes up to the 17 pen. I embrace him, shaking with nerves dispite myself. He pats my back. "Hey, hey... shhh... it's okay."

"How - how many?" I ask him. "How many slips do you have?"

I can see him hesitate, not wanting to tell me, but not wanting to deny me. "Only forty-five," he tells me. "Piper has way more - twice..." he's shaking, too, and I'm the one making comforting noises, suddenly. "What about you?" he wants to know.

I have to tell him. "35."

He nods, giving me one last hug. "May the odds be ever in your favor."

"No," I correct him. "In our favor." And then I duck below the rope and disappear, before I can be stupid and begin to cry. I weave my way through the throng of people, but I don't know what or who I am looking for. None of the girls in the troop are my age. But I do stumble across Moxie, from Mist Troop, and wordlessly join her. She nods to me, and that's all we need.

I glance up at the stage where the Reaping balls stand, glistening clear and perfect. My name is in one thirty-five times. Piper's ninety-eight. And Aria's only once. In the other are forty-five slips of paper with River Arbre written on them in clear and perfect writing, just like the Reaping balls and the Capitol's operation. But completely unlike The Hunger Games.

Garnish Gleam sits behind the balls, her back properly poised and legs crossed daintily. She is dressed in light lavender. Her entire being, from the tips of her spotless high heeled shoes, to her swirling tattoos, to the hideous flour pin holding back lavender corkscrew curls, is lavender. It's our first sign of this year's Games' colors. Lavender will be all the rage in the Capitol, but here in District 7, the color will be avoided all year.

Mayor Pines sits beside Garnish, looking thinner than usual, but still well. He cannot keep the look of revoltion off his face whenever he glances over at the Capitol escort, despite the fact that he - they - all of us are on camera, being viewed live in the Capitol. The other seat is occupied by District 7's only living victor, Blight. There had been two other victors in sixty-nine years, but both are dead. One burned to ashes in a wildfire, unlike my father, who died from the agony of burns, and the other fell from a tree and broke his neck. Tragically, neither had any family left to mourn them. Blight's eyes are unfocused, gazing to something on the horizon, and I wonder if he is thinking of the moment when he was Reaped.

Garnish begins the ceremony with a squeal of excitement, speaking of how wonderful it was to be here, and how excited we all must be - exactly like her! She wonders aloud for several minutes who in the crowd would be lucky enough to be Reaped for the Hunger Games. Then she introduces our mayor, and bustles back to her seat, giving him the stage.

Mayor Pine takes his usual slow time getting to the beautifully carved podium where he will speak. His slow steps can be put off to his age or to reluctance to speak and allow the Reaping to continue. Of course, the latter is suspected, but never spoken aloud. Once reaching the podium, Mayor Pine reads the History of Panem in the same way. Though the speech is the same every year, long, and dull, the crowd is completely silent but for those filling out betting slips in the back. Everyone's eyes are locked on the pristine glass balls, wondering whose name would be picked. The mayor finishes, "It is both a time for repentance and thanks," and I think that Moxie, beside me, is suppressing a snort. I wonder how many slips Moxie has, but don't have the breath to ask.

It's Garnish's turn back up on the stage again. She's gushing about the honor and the glory of being a tribute or an escort or a victor or generally having anything to do with the Games. Half the audience flinches at the loud, flaunting sound of her Capitol accent after the rough, soothing cadences of home coming from the Mayor. But I, like everyone else, have no breath. I can only stare at the ball that holds Aria's name, and the one that holds River's and pray. Oh, not them. Not them. Just please, not them!

"You look nervous, gentlemen," Garnish trills. "how about we do you first this time, eh?" and she's bustling to the Reaping ball. The crowd is so silent, I swear I can hear snowflakes blowing by slowly. Even those with betting slips in the back are completely, utterly silent. Garnish lets her hand sink the middle of the ball, fishing around for a moment as though looking for one specific slip, and brings one up. She takes her time coming back up to the podium, and I'm beginning to color from lack of breath. I send up a prayer for River, foremost, and Kri, Trew, Poy, and Lore right along with him.

Garnish opens the slip with never-ending slowness. My heart pounds as she reads it, licks her lips, and clears her throat. No, not them... dear ancestors in the sky or the trees, not them! I'll do anything. Garnish's lips part, and her bright Capitol voice reads the name again, aloud this time. "Raven Carpenter."

I am relieved and shallow enough to let out a sigh while others around the clearing gasp. I notice a girl with dark hair and pale skin has slumped into the arms of a friend, who looks ready to let them both fall to the ground. My mind fills with recognition. He must be a boy from the wood processing factories. When he mounts the stage, his face is expressionless, but you can still see the conflict of surprise and terror around his eyes. But he's attempting to hide it well enough, which says something about his character, I suppose. Perhaps he's not entirely worthless. Last year, the boy cried loudly on the stage and was dead at the Bloodbath.

Garnish smiles at him. "You are Raven?"

He nods, his pale hands lacing behind his back. "I am." His voice is quiet, and he feels the need to repeat himself, louder. "I am." I study his features for a moment, trying to remember this face I will never see in person again after this day. His nose and chin are sharp, skin pale and sagging. He slouches slightly where he stands, and his hair is black as midnight.

The lavender Capitol escort takes Raven's hand and lifts it into the air. "Ladies and Gentlemen of District 7, your male tribute of the 70th Hunger Games, Raven Carpenter!" The crowd claps politely, and Moxie and I join in. Betting slips are passed around in the back, money is grudgingly given up. The girl that has fainted has been awoken and is staring at Raven, eyes empty and soulless. Who is she to him? I wonder. His sister? Girlfriend? Or just a close cousin? Whoever she is, the next few weeks will be difficult for her.

The crowd becomes silent as Garnish announces, "Now, for the ladies!" And, appearing more excited and happy than ever, she trotted up to the girl's Reaping ball. Unlike she did for Raven's name, she plucks the first name she sees out of the ball. The same delay as before follows, as though Garnish is trying to make us all have heart attacks. I pray again for Aria, Johanna, Riccy, Lyda, Piper, Moxie, Elfie ... but, it turns out that I forgot someone. Someone that I care very much about. Someone very, very important.

"Fawn Dogwood." Garnish reads. A moment of silence follows, and then I hear the tell-tale sound of Creta crying. Moxie glances at me, eyes wide with shock and surprise, before she carefully masks her expression. Following her lead, I do so as well. No, more than that, I put a wall up to separate me and my emotions that might ruin everything from my body. I feel entirely disconnected from myself as I make my way away from Moxie, my family, and the others, through the path that the girls have created for me, and onto the stage beside Garnish and Raven.

Garnish has that horrible, horrible smile on her, and I can see that her teeth and lavender as well, and have tiny jewels swirling around them in a design I cannot seem to look away from. "You are Fawn Dogwood?" the words seem to slow, the lips moving too slow, and my response, too, is too late.

"Yes, I am Fawn." Emotion threatens to spill over the wall I have created, so I push it back farther. Last year, while the boy cried, the girl, only 12, had wet her own pants. I am determined not to follow in her footsteps, and at least go to my death with dignity. Because, oh yes, I will die. I will die in the hands of some monster who has spent their whole life dreaming of the moment they wear the victor crown. And they will wear it. Not me.

Garnish lifts my hand like she did Raven's. "Ladies and Gentlemen of District 7, your female tribute of the 70th Hunger Games, Fawn Dogwood!" The same smattering of applause and murmur of the betters. I can't bear to look out at them all, to see the look on Aria, River, Creta's faces ... Emotion builds up and I push back tears angrily. How dare I show weakness at this moment? I fix my eyes on something distant I can't see as Garnish takes her other hand in Raven's. "Ladies and Gentlemen of Panem, I give you the tributes of District 7!"

More applause, and Garnish flaunts around for awhile, talking about how she is sure the Games will be absolutely lovely this year, and how sure she is that we will do well. Though she does not say it simply, we have more potential than the pair from last year. Then she retreats to her chair, and I stand far away from Raven as Mayor Pine makes his way to the podium. Again in his slow manner, he reads the Treaty of Treason, giving us the rules of the Games, as if we could forget if we wanted to. Hearing them again makes me confident that I cannot win.

I risk a glance at the cameras perched on rooftops like bugs. They are fixed on me, Raven, and the Mayor. A few make wide, spreading scopes of the crowd, and I allow myself to do so once, too, for one last time. I briefly spot River's disbelieving face, Creta's sobbing one, Aria's, red and blotchy with suppressed tears, my mother's shocked stone-stilled. Piper's eyes have tears, and Riccy has fled across the crowd to Lyda, and has the other girl wrapped in her arms. Poy and Trew's faces are impassive, as Moxie, Robin, and Lake's are. I can see Elfie is stone-still and gazing fixedly at the ground, but Kri and Lore are actually crying. River's family, Byron, Tyrone, and Lily are frozen, unsure of what to do or say, and Lily's hand is touching her belly. Is she wondering if her unborn child will be Reaped one day?

But it's too much, and I have to look away. Mayor Pine finishes the Treaty of Treason, and I know that I have to shake Raven's hand. I turn to him, and accept his already outstretched hand, looking him in the eye. He has to die for me to come home, and I him. But, as we look into each other's eyes, we come to a silent agreement. We will not do this - not intentionally, anyway. And, in the odd chance that we come down to the final two, we kill like we would any other.

I turn and fix my eyes on the distant spot again, trying to look tough and untouchable. Untouchable I accomplish, maybe, but tough is impossible when all I want to do is sit down and cry and cry and cry.

**~~~BTCS~~~**

_Anybody just dying to see the tribute list? I'll give you names, but that's it! :D Most of the credit goes to my awesome bud, Kaitlin, especially when it comes to names. But Fawn and Maze and Syren and a couple of others I can claim, as well as most of their personalities and appearances, but that's not available to you yet! Anywho, by district, ladies first: 1. Shyne Luxor and Luster Diamond. 2. Gneiss Mount and Mason Flint. 3. Pixel Flash and Chip Drive. 4. Syren Seeh and Tide Playa. 5. Scarlett Wires and Cabel Atom. 6. Jet Rails and Ryder Wheel. 7. Fawn Dogwood and Raven Carpenter. 8. Cotton Flinch and Thread Coil. 9. Rye Brown and Barley Harvester. 10. Angela Herder and Grant Farmer. 11. Maze Fields and October Harvest. 12. Hestia Flamel and Cole Miner._

_Any favorites already - just by names? Fawn counts :p_


	5. I PROMISES

**PART I. BEGINNING.  
CHAPTER 5. PROMISES.**

_This chapter introduces ... three important characters. No, Raven doesn't count. And I promise that everyone who enters Fawn's goodbyes has a place in the plot line. They are not just extras. Nope, they all become important in their own time!_

**~BTCS~**

Somewhere, far away, is a girl named Fawn Dogwood. She lives in a hut with her mother and two sisters. She cuts down trees and climbs snowy hills to keep her family fed. Somewhere far away are those she calls friends and those she calls Peacekeepers. Somewhere far away is the boy she lives, with the bright green eyes and the happy, dazzling dreams. She makes sacrifices for those she loves. She would do anything for them. And now, she is paying the price. She is going to die somewhere far, far away.

Somewhere far away is District 7 and Panem.

So I think as I walk towards the Justice Building, at least thirty Peacekeepers patrolling about to make sure I don't try anything stupid like running away. Tributes have tried this before. The farthest that anyone has made it is the end of the block. Raven walks beside me, eyes fixed on the paving stones. Is he thinking of running, too? Every instinct I possess is telling me to, but I restrain myself, studying my fellow tribute carefully. Is he used to walking on the cold, hard stones that he stares at so intently? Their smooth, slippery surface is something I feel only when visiting Redwood. No, this place is not for me - I belong in the cold, snowy, pine-filled hills, where the land is distinctly living.

River doesn't glance at me or the Peacekeepers, appearing to be lost in his own thoughts. I think of how we haven't exchanged any words but for our eyes meeting, once, if that could be called speaking. I feel strangely bonded with him. We are both tributes to these horrendous Hunger Games. Though I don't know him, he will be all I have of home in a few weeks. If he's even alive. Of course, I should keep the unfamiliarality between us. The less we know each other, the easier it will be in the arena.

So I don't say a word to him as Peacekeepers show us our separate rooms where we will say our goodbyes to our families. In some faraway districts, only an hour is allotted for tributes to say their goodbyes because their Reapings are later in the day, and they have farther to travel to the Capitol. But here, in District 7, we are one of the two districts sharing borders with the Capitol. We have two hours to say our goodbyes, and another hour at the train station during which we will be filmed and possibly interviewed, if we are obliging, before we head to the Capitol. And even then, we are earlier than the other tributes, giving us more time with our stylists before the Opening Ceremonies.

I sit on the pale blue silken couch, wondering how long I will have to wait before my visitors are allowed in. Who will come to see me? Who have I already seen for the last time? I'm still managing to hold back my emotions, which is good, because there are suspicions that the Goodbyes are recorded and shown in the Capitol. Of course, not to the other tributes. It may reveal a secret that could change the course of the Games.

But when my mother, Aria, and Creta enter through the door that holds District 7, I come whizzing back to myself and my horrible emotions. My family don't move as the Peacekeepers shut the door behind them, telling us that we have fifteen minutes together. Our last ever. We stay motionless, staring at each other, memorizing every small detail, until Creta lets out a dry sob and launches herself at me. The couch rocks back at the impact, but I don't care. Her face is in my shoulder, her sobs rebounding in my ear, her tears staining my hair. I automatically bring up my hand to stroke her back, whispering condolences that are lies. Everything will be okay. Don't worry, I'm fine. Everything is fine.

I glance up to see Aria's tears are falling freely and my mother is silent and staring. A single tear runs down her cheek. Always, the sight of their worry for me made me worry for them, and now, at the sight of their sadness, I become overwhelmed with emotion. I'm not sad for myself; those tears are yet to come. No, I'm sad for them with the sorry fate of watching me die. Their grief absolutely engulfs me in sorrow for their troubles. The tears stream down my face without permission, but I am too engulfed in sorrow for their grief to notice much. Aria and Mom come over without another moment of hesitation, curling up beside me as we cry and cry for each other's fate. I can't stop touching them - Aria's hair, my mother's hand, Creta's back, heaving with sobs. I'm trying my best to remember everything about them, as I know they are doing for me. Well, good. Their memories will last longer than mine, anyway.

Peacekeepers enter to take them away, but my mother begs through her tears for five minutes, just five minutes. Regretfully, the Peacekeepers agree to the extension and withdraw again.

I take my mother's face in my hands, perhaps more harshly than I would normally, and study her eyes. Hers, dark like Aria's, lock on mine, and we spend a few breathless seconds this way. Finally, I gasp out, "Keep them alive." and she nods, knowing I mean Aria and Creta, understanding my desperation. Without my lumberjack and scouting wages, as well as the tesserae I take, they will be much worse with money. Aria will have to take tesserae and work full time. Creta may have to work, too. But there will be one less mouth to feed.

"Aria." I turn to my sister with her big, solemn eyes so like my mother's, still leaking tears, and, again, I marvel at how old she has gotten. How did I let our precious time together slip away? "You'll have to work. You'll have to be strong for me."

She nods, taking my hand and squeezing it tightly. "Even when the television is on," she promises me, breathlessly. "Especially then. I'll be strong. I won't look away. Don't worry."

"No," I tell her, shaking my head forcefully. "Don't watch those last minutes. Don't let Creta or Mom, either. Don't ... don't watch me die." The words are an effort to get out and tears are shed at them around me, but I need them to know what I want. If they watch, they'll never be able to stop. But I know that I am scaring them, so I soften. "If money gets hard, go to the Troop," I address Aria, biting my lip. I don't want her out in the dangerous wild without me, but the Troop will protect her. "They won't forget you're my sister. Young as you are, they'll find a spot for you."

Aria nods through streaming tears as though through a thick lace curtain. The kind we could never afford to haul around, because they'd just get torn. "I won't forget you either." she promises me and I don't reply because part of me is selfishly glad and part wishes she would live on in peace.

I approach my smallest sister as I would any normal day, by opening my arms. She flies into them and stays there, promising to be strong, even though I don't ask her too. "Oh, Creta," I mutter to her. "Make them happy. Keep them happy. Will you do that for me?"

She blinks away buckets of tears, pulling away and nodding eagerly. "Anything for you, Fawn. Anything for you." And then I'm pulling them all close again, telling them that I love them and trying to calm their fears. Tears don't come to my eyes. I have to be strong. For them.

Then the Peackeepers are in the room and my family is rising, leaving me and my small, blue room for District 7, where they belong and are as safe as they can be. We hug for a final time, and the last thing I hear is Creta's final word to me: win. I don't have time to respond, but how would I? I won't be living, not in the hell I'm going to.

I stare at the door, trying to convince myself that my family is gone for good; trying to convince myself that District 7, my home, is so close and tangible, but it's impossible. I'm a million miles away now, soaring in some kind of a dream. When the door opens, it's no surprise that I jump away from it like a wild animal, curling onto the couch.

"Whoa, hey, it's okay," says the familiar voice. A hand accompanies it, stroking my spine, slowly coaxing me into his arms, which I stay in numbly. I'm still worked up from the visit with my family, still confused from the Reaping, and can't seem to produce any emotion or words for him.

River doesn't study me like my family did; doesn't search for any differences in me. I am accepted into his arms without comment. Something in him is frozen, just like me, unwilling to believe that this is happening. His arms around me are a shield to the world, saving me from the terror it holds. But I force myself to break away and study his green eyes as I did my family's, desperately trying to hold onto whatever I can. "You'll survive. You'll live on." I tell him, though my voice sounds far away. The idea of him spending his life mourning me is painful. "You'll find someone else."

His eyes show shock, followed by sadness and denial. He hugs me close. "You know I won't. I couldn't. I won't just let you go."

I push him away again, gripping his hands tightly. They squeeze back in the way I found comforting only hours ago. Before the nightmare began. My eyes are becoming wet again. Never again will I see River. "Then you'll just have to try. Promise me that you'll try."

"No." His jaw firms stubbornly, making him look older, too. "I won't. There's no reason to try. You're coming home, Fawn. You can win."

I blink at him, uncomprehending. They say love blinds people to the truth. Is River really blind enough to see that I will win? "You've watched the Games," I tell him. "You've seen the people in them and what they can do. I can't kill them. I'm not going to win."

I try to pull my hands away, try to clear my head, but River holds me tight. "You're a fighter, Fawn," he tells me earnestly. "You're not like the others. You can survive and you can come home to me."

Home to him ... right now, there is nothing I want more. The hungry, hard life I lead only this morning is a million miles away and soothing as a dream. For the first time, I allow myself to imagine returning home, living in the Victor's Village, ridiculously rich and safe. Free to live with River and never worry about money again. We could really have that house full of green-eyed children, and be happy and content. For a moment, I loose myself in the thought.

But then I feel reality crash around me as my barrier collapses. One moment I was flying high in the clouds with hope, the next I am hopelessly deep in a sea of black waves. The word 'victor' is a synonym for 'killer.' To return to River and District 7, I will have to see the deaths of 23 other children. "I'm not a killer, though," I tell him, letting my gaze meet his, letting my hopelessness show. "How could you live with me? How could I?"

"The same way we do now," he tells me gently, moving a tuck of hair from my face. "We'll love you."

My eyes are filling with those useless tears again. "I love you." It's the first time I have voiced the words, my voice cracking under the weight of their meaning.

"I love you, too," he says, sincerely. And, to my surprise, he takes my face in his hands and kisses me. Another first. But I'm still so numb, so shocked, that I cannot react until he has pulled away. Looking into those beautiful green eyes, I try to draw him close again, but he only chuckles, tapping my nose in affection.

"No more, sweet," River tells me, ignoring my protests. "I have to give you something to look forward to upon your arrival back. Something to fight for." Then, as though they have been listening for the right time, the Peacekeepers enter and escort River out. I hug him as they drag him away. "I love you!" he calls back to me.

But he's gone before I can say more than "I -"

**~~BTCS~~**

My next visitors find me already standing with my arms open. Of course, I knew they would be next. Aside from my family and River, they are the most important people in the world to me. Lyda slips into my arms without further discussion, her carefully plaited red hair all askew. I can tell that she's trying hard not to cry in front of me. No, crying will be saved for her bed tonight when no one is looking and she can remember her father and me.

I rub her back consolingly and look up to the rest of the Crescent Moon Troop. We fill the small Visiting Room almost completely. Lore's face is the first I seek out. Seeing that handsome, kind face so dark is painful. Looking around, I see that everyone's faces are the same way. Serious and waiting. Ready to hear me speak. But I cannot think of a single thing to say to them. They know me so well ... what can I say that they do not already know? I only motion for them to join me as I sit down, placing Lyda in my lap. They cry around me, Lyda on my lap, Johanna curled up beside me with Poy beside her. On my other side is Kri and Trew. Riccy and Lore pull up the loveseat and sit across from us, so that our legs touch.

We sit like this for a long time, all of their eyes on me and mine traveling between them. Suddenly, I'm thinking of all the good times we've had in the forest. Lyda's ridiculous pranks that we all fell for, and Poy's good-heartedness to everything but dinner and coyotes. On one occasion, Trew had been startled by a snowy rabbit jumping right at him. Kri had fallen a short distance from a tree in a failed attempt to catch the small ball in a late night game of Branchball. Riccy had mimed Trew doing some long-forgotten task and walked right into a patch of nettles. Lore helping me pile lumber and refusing the pay. And Johanna watching, learning in her silent way.

Never again will we travel the forest together. The Hunger Games will be gone, and they will return to the area we only so recently scouted, and begin to cut down the forest once more. They will live on and scout again, and I will become the thing of memories and dreams; a wisp of memory in a thick cloud of fog.

Our short last time together is running out, and I find words for them. Words they already know, but words I feel I must say. "Keep them alive. Aria, Creta, my mother ... River. Make them live on. And live yourselves. Don't forget me, but live your own lives." I can't add the last words, for fear of the trouble it may bring us. Some words are not meant to be said, but are understood all the same. And I see the answer blazing in their eyes. Yes, my dear fighting troop, my friends, the only ones capable, will avenge me. And maybe this will give me the courage I need to face my death.

The Troop leaves without complaint, though they do stop to hug me as they go. I suppose it is for the best. The less attention they attract, the better, though some part of me wishes they'd attempt to break me out. Maybe I'd even get farther than a block - maybe I'd make it home to the hills...

I'm not really sure who is coming to see me next, coming into this room briefly from District 7. After my family, River, and the troop, there is no one who really loves me. But I stand corrected when Web meanders into the room, hand on his gnarled cane, eyes on the floor. He appears to be anxious, muttering to the floor as he often does the stars. At the sight of his hunched frame, I feel a jolt of guilt. I haven't instructed anyone to care for him. Where will he be, without my meat to feed him?

Web shuffles to where I sit, never raising his head. He seems intent upon searching the floor for some long-forgotten object. When he is no more than a foot from me, he glances up suddenly to study my face, searching for an answer. This isn't quite unusual - it is one of Web's old, slightly odd habits. "Danger," he warns me. "We are all in grave danger - you most especially, my dear. Such grave, grave, danger..." he trails off, glancing just over my left ear.

I frown, turning to see what he may be looking at, but seeing only a pale blue wall. Web is oftentimes distant, but not typically like this. I gently help him sit beside me. He stares at the door. "I knows I'm in danger, Web," I reassure him. "I'll be watching out for danger."

"No," Web's voice is surprisingly forceful for his being so distant. I feel close to him, to the world, now that someone else is drifting. "You don't know the danger. There is more to fear than you realize. Much more danger than you ever know..."

My eyes narrow as they rest on Web's old, aged form. What does he mean? How could I not realize the danger I am in? I am a tribute to the Hunger Games, after all! "Web ... I don't understand."

"Of course you do not," he replies, studying my face again. I feel oddly naked when he does this, more so now than normal. It must be because of my frayed nerves, I tell myself. "You are still young and innocent. You could never understand that you are dead and so am I and everyone you know."

"What?" I say. "Dead?" Stricken, I shake my head. Web is right. I do not understand. My heart is pounding wildly, as though Web is saying something important. All I want is to ignore him and curl back up on the couch.

Web's eyes are angry when his gravelly voice speaks again, "The Capitol chooses 24 children each year." I know this, and nod in agreement, grateful for simple, easy facts. "23 never return. Their families grieve. But what happens to them afterwards? No one hears of them after the Victory Tour unless another family member is Reaped. Why? Because they suffer far more, far worse, than grief.

The words don't rest easily with me. Will my family be punished for my involvement in the Games even after I have paid with my life? After I am dead and can no longer protect them? "What will happen to them, Web?" I'm begging, tears and sobs banished by a sort of urge to know. "What will become of them?"

He shrugs his wrinkled shoulders. "Who can say what, truly? It will all be put down to accidents - falling trees, bad squirrel, poisoned berry ... I've watched these Games from the beginning, Fawn. And not one family remains unscathed."

"W-what if I win?" I could fight and kill and win, if only I know that with my life, theirs would be spared. "Will they be safe then?" There is a desperate tone to my voice.

Web shakes his head darkly. "You may be able to protect some of them if you live, but if you place one foot out of line, they will all die slowly, one by one. Why do you think Blight is all alone? Why Haymitch Abernathy drinks his life away? Why our other Victors are dead; taken their own lives?"

Our victors took their own lives? I'd thought that they were accidents. "But I could save them? I could try, if I win?" I am grasping for something to hold onto before I die.

His face is bleeding pity for me. "We can all try. But protect who you can now, Fawn. Mention no one they could track down without your help. Your mother, sisters, and troop are already doomed. Me, as well. But protect young River and all the others with your whole heart."

"I will. I swear it," I touch my heart, because it is surely bleeding all over the blue delicateness of this room, shoving reality into its face. "Web ... thank you. Thank you for warning me."

He pats my hand. "Keep singing." And he walks to the door, pounding on it until Peacekeepers take him away. I cannot bear to watch him go, even in his own fashion. Instead, I stare at my hands, clenched into fists. How quickly the Games have changed me! Already, my hands are fists, ready to fight. Slowly, I unfurl them, staring at the familiar calluses. A tribute. A corpse. A memory. A killer. That's what I am now.

The door opens, and I jump, startled despite myself. Byron, Tyrone, and Lily Arbre step in timidly, not sure of themselves. I'm surprised that they came. After all, we have only known each other a matter of days. But maybe they felt obligated to come, because of River. Gazing at them, I wish they hadn't come. I'm determined to protect them and River.

I smile shakily at them. Well, they're here. I might as well be hospitable. "Please. Sit." I may be a killer now, but I promise myself that I'll try not to bite. They sit beside me, to my right, with Lily closest.

She speaks first, hands still resting on her swollen stomach. In there, I think, is life. Life untainted, un-ruined by Panem. Innocent life. For now. "We are so sorry, Fawn."

I do not know how to respond. 'It's okay' would have been a lie. I settle one, "I know," but because that sounds too depressing, I add, "but it's not your fault."

"River is devastated," Byron tells me. This is the wrong thing to say, because my head becomes filled with pictures of River, memories of our short Festival Time. My eyes fill with tears again.

I whisper, "I know."

There seems to be nothing left to say. They sit with me as I remember River. Remember. That thought is the most painful of all. When the time is up, they stand and wish me luck. I wonder if this means that they wish me an easy death as they walk away forever.

Mist Troop enters right after the Arbres's departure. Unlike my past visitors, they seem to show no awkwardness, sorrow, or nostalgia. They appear ... determined. Upon entering, Moxie walks up and sticks her finger right in my face. "Listen," she tells me, as though I may try and ignore her last words to me. "You are not allowed to enter River's life and leave like this. You have no right."

I blink and push her finger away. "I wish I could change things, Moxie. I really do. But what can I do? I've already been Reaped."

"Win." Lake tells me. At least, I think it is Lake. It might be his brother, Robin. "You can win."

I shake my head in exasperation. Is no one here in their right minds? I cannot win. "I ... I'm no real contender in these Games," I tell them. "Not compared to the Careers."

"Who knows?" small, wiry Guy replies. "Maybe this year will be different."

"Look at the victors not from Career districts," Elfie insists, spreading her arms apart to me as though to make it seem clearer. "Blight, Haymitch, Betee, Wiress, Chaff. They did it, didn't they? The arena isn't going to be filled with Enobarias and Finnick Odairs."

I blink. "But how do you know?" Here, I have a point. They don't. They can't. Not for sure, anyway.

Robin (I think) ignores my question and continues. "And the strong don't always win. Remember last year?" He's right. Last year, in the 69th Hunger Games, a girl name Annie Cresta from District 4 lost her mind after her district partner was beheaded. But she still won because she could survive in the following flood the longest.

I am frustrated with them. "But I can't win! I just can't! You know that!"

They are silent a moment, letting me puff in rage and indigence in the otherwise silence. Piper finally says, "You can try. Promise you will at least try."

I blink. Try. This is an idea that had not fully occurred to me. I could try. My thoughts had been full of killing and succeeding or dying in dignity. But I could try. I could die at least knowing that I had tried. Feeling strangely compelled to the idea, I respond, my voice wavering, "I ... I promise. I'll try."

Suddenly, quickly, they begin to advise me on what to do. "Find water first," Robin tells me. "You can't live without it." How often we have watched tributes die of thirst! He is right. I must find water.

"Trees," Piper advises. "Go to the trees. Especially pine. You know them. And they offer concealment." When I protest that there aren't always trees, she snaps back that I'd better hope for them.

"Flee the Cornucopa," Guy insists over my protests. "There's nothing there for you but death."

"And knives," Moxie reminds him, frowning at the two of us. "And she'll need weapons to get food. Don't both with the supplies. Get knives and get out, Fawn."

Elfie looks at me carefully before insisting that I will need allies. Sensing my protests, she tells me, "They may know different things than you. And they may save your life. Isn't that the point of having a Troop, not a lone person? And you may be glad for their company."

"But be sure to choose someone who won't betray you," Lake cautions. Too many tributes are killed each year by backstabbing allies, as well all know too well.

Robin rumbles, "Get sponsors. Make the Capitol love you enough to keep you alive. Do whatever it takes to win and keep their favor. It's all that can help you. Them, their favor, and their money."

"And most importantly, learn all you can," Guy adds. "The training time is the most important time for you outside of the arena. Remember that."

Peacekeepers enter. The troop from Sap repeats their advice to me, and I am thanking them. Without this visit, I may not have remembered to hope. And their advice gives me something to think about. I make them promise to take care of River, and keep repeating, "I'll try. I will. I really will." until the door closes.

**~~~BTCS~~~**

I stare at the door, trying to prepare myself for whatever is next, though I cannot imagine who else cares enough about me to visit. When the door opens and Lore's sweetheart, Jessica Moonbeam, steps in, Peacekeepers tell me that we have 10 minutes and she is my last visitor.

When the door has closed again, I glance at Jessica, looking for a normal mood to display on my face. "Hey, Jessica."

Obviously not fooled by my nonchalance, she stares at me. "Hey, Fawn." her expression and tone are far from normal, and I feel my act melt away. A moment of silence passes before she observes, "You've changed."

My heart sinks. If she can see the murderer in me so quickly, then I am doing a worse job of hiding it than I thought. Why joke with her? I think, and I speak my mind. "I know. I'm a killer."

She looks startled. "No, you're not. Well, not yet anyway. I just meant that you're too sad and grim. You weren't like this only this morning." I try to imagine being that happy and content again, and fail.

"The Games change people," I tell her, grimly smiling. "Not a lot of happiness in them. Not the last time I checked." I sit down with a thump on the blue, hating its pristine, petite color and stature.

"No," she agrees. "I wanted to give you something." She comes to sit beside me and grabs my hand reassuringly. It's a weird gesture, considering we barely know each other, but my being Reaped seems to have made me closer to everybody. Jessica lets go of my hand and I open it to find a small carved necklace on a length of string. I bring it closer to my eyes and examine it. It is in the small, delicate shape of a star, with a moon attached to it.

I sigh as I look at it. "Oh, Jessica. It's beautiful." I move to hand it back to her, but she shakes her head, closing my fingers around it.

"Keep it as your token," she tells me, her eyes filled with kind tears. No wonder Lore loves her. She is beautiful, smart, fairly well off, and has a good heart. What more could he ask for?

Lore. How I already miss him. "I - ... thank you." I allow the girl to place it around my neck. "Take care. Of yourself and Lore. He's a good guy."

She smiles and nods. "You too. I wish you sharp eyes and ears. And the best of luck in the world."

I smile wryly. "Thanks. I'll need it where I'm going." and then she's gone, like a whisper of the moonbeam her ancestors were named for.

**~~~~BTCS~~~~**

Peacekeepers come in to escort me out. Right. Now I go to the train station where the reporters will analyze us and call out questions that we will probably not answer. I exit my blue room through the only door, where the visitors entered, and into District 7. I stare around at the drab tiles of the paved road and the tall, grey factories. The afternoon has begun to cool slightly, and a slushy, freezing rain has begun, coating the grayness with its chill. It's not exactly home, but it is District 7 and I soak in every bit of it that I can.

Raven is waiting, surrounding by Peacekeepers as I am. He, too, is gazing around at the buildings that are home. We won't be seeing this again, after all, and might as well soak up as much of District 7 as we can. He glances at me and quickly away again. In that brief time, I can see his face is thick with emotion. I know that mine must be too, so I quickly wipe my face of all feeling, as I am accustomed to do before Peacekeepeers.

The Peacekeepers begin to lead Raven and me through the gray streets, thronged with reporters. The cameras are trained on us again. I do my best to pretend that they aren't there, my eyes fixed in the direction we are walking, toward the train station. A quick glance at Raven tells me that he is attempting to do the same, though poorly. I can only hope that I am doing a better job than him.

"Fawn!" "Fawn Dowood!" "Miss Dogwood!" the reporters call to me in an endless stream of voices. "How does it feel to be Reaped?" "What are your strategies in the Hunger Games?" "Tell us about your goodbyes!" "How are you dealing with the surprise?" I know that tributes who accept these interviews often have more sponsors because they were the first to have the opportunity to know, but I'm still to wrecked in my emotions to stop and answer any of their never-ending questions.

When we reach the train station, I am guessing that maybe twenty minutes of the hour we have to be filmed has passed. Blight and Garnish are speaking to reporters in front of the sleek Capitol train. The Peacekeepers line up around the crowd, in case Raven or I try to escape, and essentially leaving us to our own devices.

"I'll try. I'll really, really try." I had promised that I would try to save my hide, didn't I? I can at least answer some harmless question instead of standing here for the next quarter hour. With a sigh, I abandon Raven and walk towards Blight, making a sorry effort to smile.

Blight seems surprised by my appearance, but covers whatever leaked onto his face, smiling and grasping my shoulders. "And this, Giovanni, is Fawn Dogwood. One of my tributes this year, as I'm sure you know." I glance up at the Capitol reporter. His hair is bright turquoise and his clothes a bright purple. Giovanni, as Blight referred to him, appears to be young enough, 20 or less, and smiles eagerly at me now.

"Of course. Fawn Dogwood, how does it feel to be Reaped for the 70th Hunger Games?" he asks in his weird Capitol smile. I catch a glimpse of turquoise teeth.

I take a slow breath as I try to decide how to answer. Any Career would reply about the honor and glory, but how would I? I clear my throat. "Actually pretty shocking," I offer him and the cameras a humble smile. Realizing that this will not be enough, I add, "At the same time, though, I'm pretty excited. I mean, it's a chance to see the Capitol! The crown jewel of Panem! It's a one in a lifetime chance. I guess that I'm just lucky enough to get it." I give them my best sheepish smile and a few heavily mackup-ed Capitol faces smile encouragingly at me.

Giovanni is obviously pleased with me. His outfit is slightly less striking than the others, and I'm guessing that he is a starting reporter. This interview with me is probably a big deal to him and his career. "So, do you and Blight know each other, Fawn Dogwood?"

Blight chooses to answer, throwing his arm over my shoulder. I can smell the wine on his breath and try to look comfortable as he lies, "Oh, I have known Fawn since she was a little baby. Our families are old friends."

"Yes, Blight and my father were very close," I add, smiling with what I hope is winning fashion. "Blight used to visit our moving colony, Sawdust, every time we came near the Victor's Village."

Blight's arm slouches slightly on my shoulders. I wonder how drunk he is - drunk enough to believe this all happened? I doubt it, for his moves are clear enough. "Oh, yes. Those were the good days. The Dogwoods sure knew how to throw a good party!"

I let my face appear crestfallen, which isn't hard, considering the circumstances. "Yes. Those were the good days." Blight has the sense to follow my lead and his face darkens, like the sudden appearance of a cloud on a sunny day. "My father," I inform Giovanni, as though just remembering his was there. "died in a forest fire seven years ago."

"Ah, yes," Blight replies in a cry of something like renewed despair. "Tragic! How tragic it was! I remember you, Fawn, were particularly upset. You and your father were so close."

I wait a moment, wallowing in true sorrow. Remembering my father on this day is difficult. He is dead, and I will be soon. Remembering to perform, I glance at Blight. "I haven't seen you since, though, Blight."

Blight lets his frown deepen. "Of course, your father's loss made it difficult. I found myself going to your home upon several occasions, but was unable to continue at the thought that your father would not be there." I pat his shoulder consolingly for a moment, while Blight appears apologetic and sad.

When Giovanni has seen enough, he interrupts our moment. "What are your plans in the Games, Fawn?"

I glance at Blight. I really should discuss this with him before anyone else, as he may have many different angles for me to play. I think again of the Careers and how they would answer, and find my response. "To win." I lie to him through a smile. Giovanni laughs.

It is obvious he has another question for me, but Blight is leading me away for "pictures of the team." This proves to consist of Blight standing with Garnish, Raven standing with Garnish, me standing with Garnish, and then the whole lot standing with Garnish. Then this is repeated with Blight, then Raven, and me. And then, of course, endless pictures of Raven and I alone.

Then there are pictures of us slowly mounting the steps of the station and standing in front of the sleek Capitol train. Then Blight and Garnish enter the train and Raven and I stand at the entrance of the train for several long minutes before we are allowed to step back. The doors immediately slide close, and the engine begins a soft hum under our feet. And then, and then ... District 7 is speeding fast, away. I stare as Redwood disappears, followed by the forest and then ... District 7 is gone. Forever.


	6. II TRIBUTES

**PART II. PREPARING.  
CHAPTER 6. TRIBUTES.**

_According to my traffic stats, this story has quite a few readers, yet I am strangely dry on reviews :( So, if you're reading this, please, please review. PLEASE! Um, in this one, my purpose is to introduce some of the tributes ... as in, all. Fawn's pretty observant, so she makes some mental note about all of them. It also includes some details about the Districts and their people as I imagine them. And some of the Capitol technologies. _

_Anyway, enjoy, and then review!_

**~BTCS~**

Garnish Gleam's lavender smile is directed at me. I blink twice, trying not to stare at those strange patterned teeth before smiling uneasily in return. Quickly, I return to the food, which, though it is as strange as Garnish, at least doesn't smile at me. I lift one of the utensils displayed around the plate. It is similar to the forks at home, but this has four prongs instead of two, is considerably longer, and is made of swirling, smooth metal instead of the typical pine that everything we own is made of. Their spoons are smaller but deeper and the knives have actual blades, though dulled. At home, our knives are still wooden (sharpened as much as we can make them) as the Peacekeepers are loathe to trust us even with knives.

I glance upwards from my examination of the utensils, my plate still untouched. Garnish has transferred her smile to Raven, who looks as uncomfortable as I felt. Blight is eating with an appetite that appears unceasing. I wonder if he has grown accustomed to such large amounts of the strange Capitol food. Silent servants in crimson take away plates only slightly robbed of food and bringing seemingly endless amounts back. The silence that has lain over the room like a heavy fog, broken only by the train's hum, is suddenly broken by Garnish. "So, Raven, what are your strengths?"

Raven, eyes still puffy from crying, appears alarmed by the sudden question and by its nature. He glances at Blight, who has put down his fork to sturdy Raven, then to me in a pleading sort of way. I shrug slightly, curious despite myself as to how he may respond. He takes several deep breaths, then, more questioning than stating, replies, "Um, I'm used to being hungry?"

"Most of the tributes will be," Blight tells him. "but it will prove helpful to you, I am sure. What else?" Raven hesitates for several moments, so Blight prompts him, "You live in Redwood, yes?"

Raven nods. "I'm used to long work and small spaces. I can hide my emotions if I concentrate enough. And I learn really quickly." He seems to be grasping for things to say, but Blight looks thoughtful as he turns to me. "And you, Fawn? you are from Sawdust?"

Sawdust. The word stirs memories of home from where I have firmly planted them. The wild forest sitting beside ramshackle huts, light playing through branches to dapple the huts below. Children play with carved toys in the snow, screaming in delight. The sound of chopping comes from nearby, and a voice calls a warning as a tree falls, making the ground shake. A woman walks from the forest, dark face tired, an axe over her shoulder. A child cries out, running over to her. She lets out a cry as he knocks her into the snow with a hug. The other children scream in approval and run over. Soon, snow if flying and laughter rules the forest.

I brush away thoughts of home impatiently and consider how to reply. Why hide anything? I decide. Blight may save my life, and he'll need to know everything he can about me. "I'm in the Crescent Moon Troop." My fingertips find the crescent moon mark on my temple, and I smile slightly at the feeling of companionship it gives me. "I'm used to the wild. I can run really fast and climb, too. I've been throwing knives for years. And, like Raven said, I know hunger and long, hard work.

Blight's expression of thoughtfulness deepens somewhat and he nods slightly to himself as he returns to his food. Without looking up, he requests that I throw my knife. I blink in misunderstanding, glancing down at my eating knife. Where am I to throw? Before I can think too much of it, I snatch up the knife and throw. It lands directly in the middle of an artificial flower, knocking over its vase, and pinning it to the wall five feet behind its original placement. Garnish lets out a squeal of either surprise or excitement, and silent servants hurry to clean up the mess. My knife is not returned to me.

Blight grants me a 'not bad' and falls silent. Garnish quickly takes over, filling everyone in on the latest fashion statements of the Capitol, which I assume is her way of preparing us for our makeovers at the Opening Ceremonies tomorrow. After about 5 minutes, I have completely tuned her out, returning my attention to the food. When I tentatively try a bite, I discover that, while its appearance is strange, its taste is something far beyond delicious. Though it is strong, I cannot seem to get enough of it. Only when I realize that I feel sick do I set down the oddly-made fork and spoon. Soon after, Raven, appearing green, disappears to the bathroom, reappearing a delicate shade of sap.

Upon his re-arrival, Garnish excitedly announces that it is time to watch the Reapings. Feeling a strange sense of excitement and dread, I follow her through the sliding door (which still amazes me, as I come from a world where regular doors are a luxury) and into another compartment. The carpet we are now standing upon dulls the humming of the engine somewhat, for which I am grateful. I find the constant sound distracting. Garnish sits at the end of the noodle shaped couch and I quickly take the far edge. Blight sits beside me, leaving Raven with the seat between our mentor and escort.

The screen before us clicks on automatically, and suddenly I am staring at two people nearly as hideously dressed as Garnish. The woman smiles mechanically at the camera. "Hello! I am Lavinia Zatorini and this," she gestures at the man beside her, "is my brother, Cinna." She pauses for on set applause and I take the time to study them. Lavinia has a high soprano voice and long, bright red hair that is elaborately done with purple frills. What I can see of her outfit is also lavender and frilled. The man, obviously several years her senior, has left his hair untouched and clothes bland and simple. His eye shadow is lavender and strange, elaborate lavender tattoos embellish his skin.

"Happy Hunger Games!" Cinna's voice is strictly baritone - not too high or low. If not for the light accent, he would sound like plenty of young men back home. "It has been an exciting day, hasn't it, Lavinia?"

Lavinia smiles again, but this time at her brother. It seems warmer, that smile, when she gives it to him - not unlike a smile I may share with my sisters. "Reaping Day is always eventful - and a bit confusing. Which is why we are here for a recapping of the Reapings!"

"District 1 first!" Cinna smiles and suddenly the screen is occupied by a large marble square filled with well dressed and fed people. Most are blond and all are smiling and talking excitedly. Cinna and Lavinia's faces occupy small boxes in their separate corners of the screen, commentating about the many past victors of District 1. They fall silent as a willowy girl of 15 is Reaped. Quickly, however, she is replaced by a smug-looking girl with honey blond hair. When asked her name, she smirks and announces, "Shyne Luxor" as if it is the best person one could be. Cinna immediately begins to compare her to past tributes and victors, to which Lavinia happily contributes until the boys are being called.

A small but sturdy boy is called, looking thrilled. His disappointment is palpable as a sandy blond replaces him. "I'm Luster Diamond," the sandy blond tells the escort in an off-hand manner, looking almost bored.

Cinna and Lavinia immediately begin to commentate as the screen launches into the interviews. Shyne proves to be just as smug as she appeared, and Luster is quite likeable. I'm not listening as Lavinia tells her audience what the wealthiest citizens of the Capitol are saying about District 1 sponsor deals this year. I am staring at the formidable tributes that District 1 has to offer this year. They were chosen for this purpose years ago and have been training ever since. Training ... to kill me.

Suddenly, I am fighting to keep my dinner. It's as if seeing the other tributes has made me realize where I am going and what I am going to do. Black spots invade my vision and it is several minutes before I mange to push away my nausea, reminding myself sternly of the importance of appearance, since the train is surely bugged as well.

Cinna and Lavinia have moved on to District 2. I catch a glimpse of the dark granite square with the happy, muscular people, before a huge girl is Reaped. I think that she must be a mountain herself, but I am proved wrong when the volunteer approaches. With her short Raven hair and black eyes, I cannot find a more daunting image. When asked her name, she tells the escort shortly, "Gneiss Mount." The volunteer for the boys is just as large as Gneiss. His eyes are brown, unlike most of the crowd's black, beady eyes. His name is Mason Flint.

In their interviews, they both prove to be just as tough and confrontational as I had guessed. When a reporter asks Mason who he thinks will win this year - him or Gneiss, he laughs and loudly states, "Oh, that's easy. I'm strong, tough, and nothing can bring me down. I'm going to win. Easily." The final shots are of the tributes before the tribute train. Gneiss has her hands on her hips and Mason has his arms crossed. Both have their faces made into menacing growls. I cannot suppress a shiver of fear as I picture those muscular arms crushing my head like an acorn.

District 3, with its tall, high tech buildings, appears. The people here are more subdued, not laughing or talking loudly. Instead, a low murmur runs through the be-speckled, mousy haired people. The people here look actually worried instead of confident and joyful. The Capitol escort, a tall, lavender man, takes a slip of paper from the girl's glass ball. "Pixel Atom!" he reads out. "Will you please come to the stage?" I notice several people in the crowd look pained, but none cry out or let tears fall. A small girl of about 15 with mousy brown hair mounts the stage, confirming that she is Pixel.

"Chip Drive!" the escort reads. Again, several of the District 3 citizens look pained, but none loose their composure. A pale, lanky boy with mousy hair like Pixel joins the escort on the stage. As they both refuse interviews, pictures flash across the screen of the two, with their eyes slightly red.

Lavinia trills, "Time for District 4!" and a cobblestone square appears. The sun is hotter and brighter here, and you can just see the sea past the small buildings, like a wild, large lake. The people seem as happy as those in District 1 and 2, though not as well dressed. The babble of talk, however, cannot compare to any of the other districts. It falls silent only as the female volunteer steps forward, announcing that her name is Syren Seeh. She sweeps her midnight black hair out of her piercing green eyes and places a hand on her hip. The boy volunteer, Tide Playa, is only slightly taller than Syren, and they share their long black hair - Syren's cut to cover the small of her back, Tide's hanging to his shoulders. Both are a tangled and salty mess. Tide's eyes are sea blue instead of foam green, and they both are well tanned. Their interviews are predictably confident, and I don't both remembering any of them.

A new square made of rosy pink stone appears. The people crowding the square have rosy, fiery, and rusty hair. Looking at the sea of hair is like looking into a fire. The first reaped tribute, Scarlett Wires, makes her careful way to the stage. Family members now allow their distress to show in silent tears. As Scarlett takes her place on the stage, I note her nimble hands and careful green eyes. Her red hair is long and sweeps over her body like the branches of a weeping willow. Her partner, Candle Atom, is only 14. His hazel eyes are wide with shock, and something breaks in me then, seeing this boy crying and knowing I have to kill him. It's all I can do not to run from the room as reality sticks its unwelcome, cold nose in my face.

I try to direct my attention back to the screen as District 6 flashes up. Rails for the Capitol trains zigzag across the area I can see, leaving small places for buildings. The square itself is made of polished steel, neat and efficient. "Jet Rails!" the escort announces, and a few seconds pass before a girl with chin-length, uniform hair appears, chin held high. After a pause, her partner, Ryder Wheel, joins her. His own black hair is tied back into a neat low pony-tail, a style unseen out of District 6.

I am not ready to see my face on the screen. I try to brace myself, but there is no stopping the pang of homesickness that hits me as I look at Redwood. District 7 .. my hand wants to reach for it, but I keep it firmly planted in my lap. 'It's a show,' I remind myself. 'All about acting.' So I force my face into a neutral mask as I am Reaped, forcing myself to keep my eyes away from the crowd, where I may see my mother, Creta, Aria, River, and the other's reactions. I effectively drown out Cinna and Lavinia's comments about me as Raven is chosen.

Then there is my interview with Blight and Giovanni. Though I am trying my best to tune out the commentators, Cinna's voice breaks through: "Lavinia, isn't that _your _Giovanni?"

Lavinia's blush is as red as her hair. "Why, yes. It is. He is new to the business, but I am confident of his quick rise." Cinna teases his sister for a few moments, but allow my interview to play in full.

Then (thank the stars!) we are moving on to District 8, with its large factory building spewing smoke even though unoccupied, dirt and dust covering everything. The people are poorly dressed, in scratchy fabrics obviously cheaply made by themselves. The girl, Cotton Flinch, is 13 and has soft, wavy blond hair. She makes no means to hide her tears as she trips her way up to the stage. My heart beats too often, and I feel hollow. She is no fighter, just like Cabel from District 5.

"Thread Coil," the prim, perfect Capitol voice reads. A seventeen year old boy reluctantly steps forward, appearing discouraged, nothing more. Unlike Cotton, but more alike to the rest of the square, he has dusty brown hair, green eyes, and is quite pale. I wonder how often they see the sun here in dirty, dark District 8.

District 9 is a different world. There are only a handful of buildings around the square, and beyond that are fields and fields of rippling grain. The people are dressed worse here, with their dark skin and hair. Rye Brown, the girl tribute, appears to be a model of what most people from District 9 look like, with her light caramel skin and dark, curly hair. The boy, Barley Harvester, looks similar to his district partner, but his skin is almond and his hair is kept short. Rye has her arms crossed and looks tough, but Barley cannot conceal his look of terror.

Angela Herder, from District 10, has white blonde hair and a child-like face. Her hair and light skin stand out in the sea of brown like a mockingjay in a flock of hawks. "Grant Farmer!" the escort announces. Grant, dark face very defensive, emerges from the crowd. He glances at Angela, but otherwise ignores his fellow, trembling tribute.

District 11 is fields upon fields of green plants, with beaten down huts randomly placed about them. The square and people are covered in dirt. "Maze Fields!" the escort calls out, his eyes searching the crowd. A girl with dark brown skin and eyes approaches, looking mildly surprised. The escort announces, "October Harvest!" and Maze's face twists. Most likely, she knows the boy with light orange hair and a stubborn chin and nose. However, they do not so much as glance at one another.

In my opinion, District 12 is the worst district to inhabit. The sky is clouded, as though shrouded in smoke, and everything, including the starving people, is completely covered in coal dust. The escort, sporting pink hair, announces the name, "Hestia Flamel!" A bone thin girl of 15 with olive skin and dark hair approaches, knees trembling. The boy, Cole Miner, looks similar to Hestia. They could be siblings. Hestia cries silently as Cole joins her.

The screen cuts back to the beaming Zatorini siblings. "So, these are the tributes for this year's Hunger Games!" Cinna beams, straightening his black jacket.

"Our good wishes to all of the Districts and tributes this year!" Lavinia trills.

"And a Happy Hunger Games to you!" Cinna adds. The screen blacks out and the Capitol anthem blares as the seal appears. Then everything fades away.

I glance at my companions, conscious of them for the first time in a long while. Blight's face is creased as he considers the tributes. Raven appears hopeless, and I wonder if I, too, appear so ... defeated before the Games have even begun. Garnish, on the other hand, looks positively thrilled. "How exciting!" she cries. "I think that Gneiss and Mason look promising. Shyne and Luster cannot compare to their predecessors, obviously, but Syren and Tide look tough. What do you think, Blight?"

Blight starts, not having been listening. "I think it's time to talk strategy." I glance at Raven, who has withdrawn into a blank mask. I cannot summon any emotion, so I don't bother. What is there to hide? "Fawn, Raven, who stood out to you?"

It is obvious that Raven is not going to answer. I take a deep breath, letting the images of the tributes wash through my brain. "The Careers, obviously. Scarlett and Candle from 5. Cotton from 8. Rye from 9. Grant from 10. And Maze and October from 11."

"How do you identify them?" Blight arches a black eyebrow. "As allies or enemies? Would you be willing to join the Career alliance, if admittance was offered to you?"

I flinch at this instinctively. "No!" I snap. The Careers are widely hated in all but their own districts, because they have a chance to win, when we don't. And, most often, they kill our tributes. But I force myself to consider the question rationally. "The Careers backstab each other, especially the non-traditional Careers. No .. I wouldn't risk joining them. But any of the others I'd be willing to take as allies... Is that a good idea?" Just because Elfie from Mist Troop suggested this doesn't mean I should.

Blight nods grimly. "Alliances are essential." This, I remember, are the exact words of Elfie. "but" he cautions. "no alliances last forever. Remember this." He pauses, looking from me to Raven. "Now, about alliances. Are you two going to be coached separately, or are you going to cast your lots together?"

I glance at Raven. What are we going to do? Blight is right - this should be decided now. Raven has already seen me throw. If he is my enemy, this is too much. We acknowledged on the stage, however silently, that we would not kill each other if it was at all avoidable, but shall we, as Blight put it, cast our lots together? Raven glances at me, and our eyes lock. That one look says everything - our fear, reluctance, disgust, and maybe even anger. I blink. "I'm with you."

He nods, expression carefully removed, as though he expected nothing else. "And I'm with you."

"Well, that settles that," Blight nods slowly. "Who did you notice, Raven? Any allies?"

Raven hesitates. "I don't remember most of the tributes," he confesses, "except for the Careers and Grant from 10."

Blight sighs slightly, scratching the stubble from his chin. "Well, it's hard to say much about alliances this early, but I think you should definitely try and seek out the other tributes. Give all of them the benefit of the doubt. You can't really judge them by appearance - everyone but the Careers have received quite the shock. Including you two."

I blink slightly. And I shocked? I'm still not mustering up much emotion. My pity is all for my family and friends and the tributes on the screen - not for myself, not yet. Feeling uncomfortable, I stretch my arms slightly, and yawn. It has to be pretty late, and, though lacking in its usual physical exertion, the day was strenuous. When will we be allowed to go to bed? "What about tomorrow? With the stylists?" I am not looking forward to being dressed in the silly Capitol fashion and paraded about like their show-dogs.

"You have to let them do what they want," Garnish tells me sternly. I'd forgotten she is here. "Your appearance is how you will be judged, no matter how Blight detests this. Your stylists are trying to _help _you." No threat is attached at the end, as I am accustomed to hearing. Does Garnish threaten people? I wonder. Does she even know how?

I glance at Blight for support. He rubs his forehead. "Garnish is right," he tells me, ignoring my sour face. "The Capitol prides itself upon appearance. Therefore, yours should appeal to them."

Raven and I share a disgusted look. "But -" I know the moment I open my mouth, the argument is hopeless.

"Don't argue. Please," Blight's face is in his hands. What sort of emotional struggle is going on within him? Is he remembering being a tribute himself, and the children he'd mentored before us? Thinking of how only one of us may return, and probably neither of us? My heart twists in pity despite my anger at his decision. "Just ... go to your rooms. Try to sleep."

I don't argue anymore. I leave the room silently, going through the dining compartment, now cleared of all food, and into the hallway beyond. My room is the first to the right. I spent some time in it before the meal, admiring it. I was quite taken with the electronics, the comfiness of the furniture, and the largeness and delicateness of the objects. Never would we be able to have such abundance in the huts. I was reluctant to leave my search for dinner. Now, however, I feel sick as I look at the room. It has housed sixty-nine other female tributes of District 7 on their way to the Capitol. I am the seventieth. Will I return to see it again?

As the doors slide closed behind me, I realize that I am completely alone, except for maybe a few bugs. I expect whatever emotion I have hidden to hit me in this moment, when I can hide under the blankets and let it all out. Maybe I will feel anger, and pound at the pillow. Maybe I will feel sadness, and cry until my heart breaks. Or maybe I will only feel emptiness, and curl into a ball, hopeless. But the only feeling I can muster up is tiredness.

I stretch and yawn again, looking around the rooms unexcitedly. The bed-room has already been thoroughly explored by me, but I've barely looked into what Garnish calls the 'closet' and the bath-room. In Sawdust, we hardly ever bathe or change our clothes, so these rooms were not immediately interesting to me. But I now enter the bathroom and take off the beautiful dress Riccy loaned me, sitting it in a neat heap on the floor. I scan what appears to be dips in the floor, and discover that they are meant as a sink and bath. I quickly have the latter foaming in creamy orange bubbles that reminds me of sap. Their smell, however, is more tangy.

I climb in and relax as the warm water hits me. Warm water ... another luxury we do not have in District 7. We only bathe in streams pre-approved, and in the summer. Even in the warmest degrees, the water is chilling, and baths are not long. Here ... I sigh and let the water wash over me. It has no current, which is odd to me. I reach over to the buttons on the wall and press a few more. Blue liquid pours into the water, giving it a soothing color. The next makes bubbles rise around me. Another makes the dip vibrate around my back and legs, massaging them. But at the appearance of lavender mist, I loose whatever relaxation the bath has given me. Lavender ... it's a reminder of why I am here. Quickly, I climb out of the water, and it drains with a satisfying 'pop'. The mist clears immediately.

I turn my attention to the sink, trying to forget the mist. Buttons surround it, along with boxes and lumps of the sink. I press my hand on a box, and a current of warm air detangles and dries my hair within four seconds, letting it fall, silky, onto my shoulders. Another dries my body in a similar way. A button turns on the sink, filling it. Another makes the water churn, giving it a current that I find soothing. Soon, I am bathing my hands in a similar way that I did my body. When I decide that is enough, I withdraw my hands, and it drains immediately.

Another button produces me with a tablet. I study it for several seconds before I realize that I am supposed to consume it. Skeptically, I place it in my mouth and chew. The taste of mint (familiar from tea at home) rushes into my mouth, freshening my breath. The pill dissolves immediately. Upon further investigation, I discover my teeth are a pearly white I have seen only on Capitol citizens.

When I touch a lump, a creamy fluid shoots out of the walls. I gasp in shock, adrenaline pumping through me before I realize that it is soothing and harmless. Still, I cannot relax after this newest surprise of the bath-room. I slip out, into the bed-room, Riccy's dress clutched protectively in my arms. I hesitate, looking at the comfortable bed, before darting into the closet. A screen is on the wall, beside the door, and about five poles of strong metal run from one wall to the other. I go to the screen, tapping it curiously with the hand not holding Riccy's dress.

"Hello," the screen lights up to the Capitol's seal, and a female voice addresses me, making me jump and drop the dress. "How may I help you, Miss Dogwood?"

For a moment, I am speechless. How does the closet know my name? Then, I remember. I am a very important person to Panem now. Someone must have programmed it to recognize me. "Um," I say. "I need a nightgown. Something to sleep in."

"What do you prefer?" the voice asks. I wonder where it is coming from - it seems to be ringing from all around me. "An outfit or a dress?"

My head is spinning with shock. By far, this is the most amazing thing I have seen yet. "An outfit."

The screen then presents me with about twenty different styles of nightgown outfits. "Something like this? Or something different?"

I stare at the pictures, speechless for a moment. Then, I manage, "Do you have anything simpler? Something similar to what I'd wear home?"

The voice is silent for a moment. "Home? I do not understand. This is what I have. Something like this? Or something different?" It offers new pictures, trying to be helpful.

"Uh, this one, I guess," I tap on a frilly shirt with legging-like pants, designs running up and down their length. The screen quickly separates into a screen of outfits that are similar to the one I chose. The voice asks again. "Something like this? Or something different?" I go through ten more screens like this, choosing the simplest outfit I can find, and then the voice says, "I think I understand."

I am waiting for further direction when I hear a whizzing sound. Years of scouting have me spun around quickly, but even I cannot catch sight of the objects in motion. They have stopped, pausing before me - outfits similar to the ones I just saw on screen. Bland for Capitol standards, but ridiculous compared to mine. "Are these pleasing to you?" the voice asks. "Or do you want something different?"

"Um..." I glance at Riccy's dress on the floor. "You know what, I'm actually fine. Thank you."

The outfits wiz away. I can catch only a blur and they are gone. I turn back to the screen, scooping up Riccy's dress. "It is my pleasure, Miss Dogwood. Anything you need, I will always be pleasured to give you." It pauses, and I wait for the screen to black out. But apparently, the voice is not done. "Do you wish to program your outfit for tomorrow?"

I shake my head, forgetting that it is a screen. I am opening my mouth to reply when the screen replies to my shaking, "All right. I will expect to program for you tomorrow morning."

"Oh," I say, shocked that it can monitor me so well. "Well, thank you again. And ... good night." I'm wondering if it will open before the screen becomes dark and the voice falls silent.

"Good night, Miss Dogwood. And good beauty sleep to you." the screen now returns to its platinum gray and the voice is silent. I stand before the door, and it slides open agreeably. Stepping back into the bedroom, I realize that I'm not cold. Even though I am wearing no clothes, the room has adjusted its heat for me to be completely comfortable. How accustomed I am to being cold, I realize only now. I frown slightly and bring the dress to my nose. Snow, pine needles, and sap. Home. How far away it is.

I put on the dress, comforted by its familiar weight. I adjust the lights without too much trouble, having already figured out how earlier, turning them all the way down, and leaving myself in complete darkness. I feel my way to the bed and climb in. The blankets are already a comfortable temperature, though I wish they were cooler. In fact, I wish the whole place was. Maybe Blight knows how to make it colder ... The blankets, warm as they are, are plush and soft. My last waking thought is that I miss Aria and Creta's bodies providing the warmth instead of the Capitol.

**~~BTCS~~**

I am running from something through an inferno of light. Fire reigns the night. My family and friends are running with me, along with people I don't know. Aria and my mother push through the dark air, panting from exertion, and I scoop up Creta, who is falling behind. I suck in a breath of smoke, and panic forces its way into my heart. _My father died like this._

"Fawn!" Creta is flailing in my arms. "Stop! I can't go farther!"

"What do you mean?" I have to set her down, she is struggling to hard to be rid of my arms. "Creta, you can't stop! The fire will get you!"

My mother and Aria have stopped beside me. "No," they say. "it's all right. We will be safe here. Don't worry. We can keep each other safe. But you have to go!" Aria's voice raises several octaves, worried for me as she always is. "You have to go, Fawn! They aren't after us! They want you!"

Creta pushes me in the direction of the other fleeing people. "Run, Fawn! Run!" At the sign of their panic, my feet fly away, though I glance back at them, watching until fire and smoke obscure my vision. I join the group of people again, running at its back. Smoke fills my lungs, and I cough for several moments, trying to rid myself of the taste.

A figure with shaggy black hair pulls away from the group. I stare for several moments, my eyes burning from the smoke, before screaming, "River! Come back!"

"No!" he appears panicked. "Run, Fawn! I'm safe! Just go!" I can only watch as the fire swallows up River as well. I scream an unearthly scream at the sight.

The Crecent Moon Troop falls behind next. I scream at them, begging them to stay with me, but they, too, are eaten by the fire. Tears flow from my eyes, but I'm not sure if it is from the smoke or distress. I am forced to watch as, one by one, my friends are peeled away from the group and eaten by fire. The smell of burning bodies is like acid on my tongue as I choke and stumble forward.

Soon, it is only me and twenty-three others racing through the forest. When I glance at my companions, I am shocked to see the other tributes surrounding me. My horror grows when the Careers turn on the others, striking them down with sharp weapons, shining in the firelight. When most of the others have been lost to the fire, the Careers turn on each other, fighting until only one is left. Eyes shining with fire, the surviving Career turns to me.

I run as fast as I can, but the Career still catches up to me, jumping on me and pinning me to the burning floor. It is like touching an iron, and the flames lick up my skin. The Career sneers at me, pushing me harder into the ground. He laughs as I am swallowed up by the ground and the fire.

And then the entire world is fire. Despite everyone's sacrifices to keep me alive, I still am swallowed up by the fire and pain, just like my father was. I was in the way, and the flames eat at me greedily, using me as fuel to the fire that is eating up the world.

**~~~BTCS~~~**

_Cinna? WHAT! Anyone recognize Lavinia? Anyone? And yes, Giovanni does end up important ... As I believe I have mention about a million times, this fic goes far beyond the 70th Hunger Games. I've been adding to the plotline, and here's some of what you can expect: More on Lavinia, Cinna, Giovanni, Portia, Johanna, Titus, Tigris, Blight, Annie, Finnick, and their child, Mr. and Mrs. Everdeen, young Katniss and Prim, Foxface, Glimmer, the victors, District 13, District 12, District 7, the Capitol and its technology and social web, the wild, mockingjays, mentoring, rebellions, The 71st, 72nd, and 73rd Hunger Games, the 74th and 75th Hunger Games from a victor's POV, and Blight, Annie, Finnick, Beetee, and Johanna's Games. Oh, and about Fawn's life, of course! So, yes, there's lots and lots to expect!_

_So? Which tributes struck you as important? Let me know in a review! PLEASE!_


	7. II REMAKE

**PART II. PREPARING.  
CHAPTER 7. REMAKE.**

_Yay! READERS! Now, if you will please review! Thank goodness this is getting popular... plenty in store for you few readers! Here's some more for you. Um, in this one you meet a few important people. Should I tell you who is the most important? Nope. Not unless you review, and then PM me. Then MAYBE I will spoil just a LITTLE BIT._

_Sorry this took so long. I've been doing 'my homework' and making a plotline on paper and writing down some pretty detailed character analysis for everyone... Not done yet, but if you want some insight on anyone, just PM me._

_We have a new cover! What does everyone think? I found the image and fell in love with it. She doesn't really look like Fawn, but otherwise... she's perfect! Beautiful ... or so I think... Anyone else's opinions?_

_Soooo sorry... Cabel's name isn't Candle. That's the District 5 boy. SORRY! Typos :/_

_This one begins just about where the other one lets off. I wanted to let Fawn break down a little bit, just so that you can see more of the emotions that she's doing her best to ignore. Ah, good old Fawn... I'm so mean to her :(_

**~BTCS~**

I wake with a start, my eyes snapping open sightlessly. Fire still rules my vision, and warmth cocoons my body. I let out a strangled cry, turning over, my legs becoming entangled in warmth. Horrible, heart-bursting warmth. I scream again as I try to run to my father, dressed in flames, just ahead of me, and smiling as though we are sharing an inside joke. "Dad!" I scream. "Help! Help me! Daddy!" For a moment, I am floating towards my father, and the warmth leaves my body. Then I slam into something.

I push myself up with my hands, looking around wildly. "Dad? Dad!" but all I see is the Capitol train room. I blink several times, remembering the past day. "Dad?" Untangling myself from the blankets, I turn around several times, ensuring that my father truly isn't here. Feeling disappointment, I glance at Riccy's dress. It is caked with sweat. I take it off, but the temperature doesn't change. Suddenly, I desperately need to be in the cold. Still clutching the dress tightly in my hands, I fly to the bath-room. My adrenaline is still spiked, and my feet are blurred as I lunge into another warm room. In a second, I am in a pool of ice cold water, still clutching the dress and trying to calm myself down.

"It was just a dream," I tell myself aloud. "They're all fine. I'm the only one in danger." I take several deep breaths, and throw away the dream. Trying to distract myself, I fiddle with the dials, filling the room with damp, cool air, and a smell that reminds me of sap. I breathe deeply, closing my eyes, and trying to pretend that I am home. The water is too still, though, for me to relax.

I open my eyes and turn my musing to another topic - the other tributes. The mist-like air makes it easy to believe I am not under surveillance at this moment, and I allow myself to think about them honestly. What faces do I remember? The appear shrouded in the mist before me, and I wonder if I am not still asleep in part of my brain. The dark-skinned girl from 11, looking surprised as she mounted the stage. Cabel from 5, crying as his partner, Scarlett, stares at the crowd. Bored Luster Diamond, and smug Shyne. Pale Chip and Pixel. Mysterious Tide. Giant Gneiss and Mason Flint. Beautiful Syren. There are so many of them... and I will have to kill them all, or be killed.

I bite my lip. A wave of protest wells up inside of me. Why me? Why was I chosen? I have a better chance than some, like Cabel or Pixel, or even Raven, but none against Luster, Gneiss, Syren... It will surely be one of them that slits my throat and leaves my body for the hovercrafts to pick up. I swirl my finger in the water, watching the ripples it makes. I promised that I'd try to win. But something tells me that trying just isn't going to cut it.

The water is heating. I press a button, and it immediately cools again. I say involuntarily, and make the mist thicker. How similar this is to only a few days ago, on a Festival day, when Aria and I were washing our clothes before the Branchball match. That seems a lifetime away. Will I ever be able to return myself to that mindset, even if I do come out as victor?

A high voice trills, "Fawn! Fawn, dear! Time to wake up!" She's knocking on my bedroom door and entering. Suddenly, I am very conscious that I am unclothed. "Fawn? Are you in the bathroom?"

"Yes!" I cry, covering myself, but not coming out of the wonderful, cold water. "Don't come in! I'm in the water!"

Garnish enters anyway, and I sink to let the water cover me, grateful for the mist now. I think that she has a frown on her lavender face. "Now, dearie, you're meeting your stylist today. She'll need to see you naked. It's best you get over this now."

I moan, pressing a button that makes the bath fill with orange bubbles, providing more modesty. "What do you want, Garnish? Is it time to eat?"

She nods, her crazy hair done up in swirls today, and bobbing around crazily. Her earrings make a racket when the clang together. "It is, in about an hour. I thought you might need some help picking out an outfit today." Garnish appears quite eager to help with this, and I find myself shaking my head forcefully.

"Uh, no. That's all right." Her face falls, comically with her absurd makeup. "No, really, it's nothing against you, Garnish. It's just .. I figured out how to use the dressing-room last night. So, really, it's okay."

Garnish studies my face for a moment, and I make an effort to smile genuinely at her, but it ended up something closer to a grimace. "You'll want to look your best," she warns. "and Blight wants you to do another interview before you meet your stylist. Are you sure, dearie, that I couldn't just ... make a few suggestions?" I hesitate, and she hurries on. "Of course, no makeup, and we'll leave your hair as it is. We want to recognize you in the arena. Oh, and we'll keep your clothing modest, of course..." She gazes at me pleadingly, and I find myself trapped.

Hesitantly, I ask, "This will help my appearance in the Capitol?"

Garnish nods eagerly, setting her earrings clanging again. "Oh, yes, of course, dearie! I may not be a stylist, but I do make an effort to stay up on the fashion statements, as I'm sure you can see." She gestures to her outfit and smiles winningly. I glance at it, and it appears to be frilly. I wonder if she modeled it after Lavinia's last night.

_"I promise I'll try my hardest." _I sigh as my own voice rings through my ears. Sponsors were important. "Well ... all right. But I have the last word! And nothing lavender!" the mere sight of the color is enough to bring me nausea.

My escort looks thrilled. She does a little hop of excitement, her heels clattering against the floor, and she claps several times in a row. "Oh, good! I did so hope you would let me! Now, let's see... red looks nice on you, but we should dress you in something different, since you were in red yesterday... Oh, you'd look fabulous in royal blue! And maybe just a bit of emerald to set it off... I know exactly what you should wear!" She takes off quickly, clattering away, calling over her shoulder, "Oh, hurry, hurry, hurry, dearie! We only have a bit of time!

I sigh deeply, already regretting my decision, and climb out of the cool water. The room, at least, is several degrees cooler than before, and I glance at the soaked dress I still have in my hands. I'm not accustomed to wearing cold clothes - they could freeze, and that would be the end of you. Here ... there is no danger of that. All the same, I put on a robe and hold the dress as I head out to join Garnish in the clothing-room.

"Oohhh!" she trills. "Ooohhh! Come look, Fawn!" I enter, and the door closes behind me. Bracing myself, I glance at the many royal blue outfits. They are all what we call in District 7 insane. I turn to Garnish. "Something simpler, please. I need to be able to move around." The word 'please' seems to be redeeming me with her, and she only gives me a regretful look as other outfits wizz in. They are much better, and I tell Garnish so. Glancing around, I choose the most rational one, with a simple strapless top and a skirt the frills out to the knee.

Garnish smiles at me. "That's ... pretty." It's obviously not what she would've chosen, but I'm adamant in my choice. I turn, examining the shoes on display. Garnish picks a pair that have high, skinny heels, and I immediately disagree. "I can't wear those! I'll fall flat on my face!" Giving me a rueful look, she instead chooses a pair with small soles and a large emerald resting on the top.

"No accessories," I say firmly as she glances at jewelry.

Looking disappointed, Garnish orders me to put on the outfit. I do so quickly, with as much modesty as I can manage. Then Garnish is dragging me to the bath-room, and having the room bathe me in lotion and facial cream. My hair is blown to a silky shine, and then curled ever so slightly. Garnish has me close my eyes, and they are outlined gently in black, a royal blue design around my eyelids. Looking at myself in the mirror, I realize with a shock that I do not look horrible. I may not be what I consider beautiful, but I am most definitely not as horrible-looking as Garnish or several of the other people from the Capitol I have seen on the television. I am more modest, with a child-like appearance, nearly innocent looking. How odd, since I am going into the Hunger Games, for the people to see me like this!

A slight sob echoes in the quiet bath-room. I glance over quickly to see Garnish suppressing tears. Alarm shoots through me. "W-what's wrong?" I glance around instinctively, searching for the cause of distress.

Wiping her eyes, Garnish apologizes several times. "It's - it's just ... you look just like Moira."

I blink several times. The name doesn't sound familiar. Was she one of the past tributes that Garnish had felt some affection for? "Who is Moira?" I try to keep my tone merely curious.

Garnish's makeup is smearing. "She ... she was Tigris's daughter. Such a - a sweet girl." A moment passed, and Garnish took it to compose herself. "She preferred simple looks like you when there was no special occasion to get dressed up for. She was so bright and clever, sure to be a Gamemaker one day. Once ... once a spider made its way into her bedroom (before the family Avox had applied the annual bug repellant), and she insisted that it be let loose in the Underground, where it could be safe. She couldn't hurt a fly, that one. So innocent ... She and Ava, the President's granddaughter, were the best of friends. Always coming up with some plot to surprise their mothers and fathers. Just like sisters, those two ... Her favorite part of the year was the Games, you know. You'd doubtlessly be meeting her today - she loved every part of the Games, but especially the Opening Ceremonies..." she trailed off, her eyes misted.

"Then...?" Obviously this story did not have a happy ending for Moira, the innocent girl that couldn't hurt a spider, bright and clever enough to be a Gamemaker. The girl who was like a sister to the horrible President's granddaughter.

Garnish's eyes filled with tears again. "It was so sudden... Just before the Victory Tour last year, she developed some kind of lung disease. Doctors were called, and the latest technology from District 3 was used, but it wasn't enough. Moira died with her parents beside her." A tear slipped out of Garnish's eye, colored lavender by her makeup. "Leviticus, that's Tigris's husband, was devastated. He died only a few days after, unable to live without his Moira, and leaving Tigris all alone to grieve, horrified at the way her life was changing. She's still grieving, I believe, putting her whole life into her work. Poor girl... poor girl ..."

I give Garnish a moment before I ask her, "Garnish, who is Tigris? And why would I be meeting her daughter?"

"Because she is your stylist."

**~~BTCS~~**

I walk into the Remake center, having already done a fifteen minute interview with another reporter, feeling slightly nervous. I am giving my full acceptance to whatever this grieving Tigris wants to do with me. Blight gives me an encouraging nod, and motions me to a wall, where a door slides open. I glance at Raven, who looks like he might be sick. He must be as worried as I am. Is he thinking about the other tributes, still seeing their faces shrouded in mist, like I am? I gulp, nod to my team, and walk slowly to the door, keeping my spine tall, and trying not to curl into a ball and hide.

The moment I am through the door, it slides closed, and behind me is an ordinary wall, smooth and a pale lavender. I shudder at the sight of the color, but it is all around me. There is no escaping it. Two voices chime together, "Hello!" And I spin around quickly, searching for the source of the voices. I quickly find a girl with frizzy yellow-white hair and lavender clothes and makeup standing beside a boy that I feel I know.

"Hello!" the girl rushes us to me. "I am Portia, and this is Cinna. We are your prep team!"

The boy, who I now recognize, smiles slightly at me. "Hello. It's nice to meet you."

I blink at him several times. "You were commentating the Reapings recaps last night." I state. I haven't heard of a Capitol citizen being both a commentator and a stylist-in-training.

Portia lets out a high stream of giggles. "Isn't it so exciting?" she nearly screams. "Cinna just started commentating to help his sister, Lavinia, but he's been getting better at it! He's getting a ton of money for us to spend on your outfits this year! Oooooh ... just wait until you see what Tigris has ready for you! It's really beautiful, and I helped pick out the fabric, too!" She stops to breathe, looking at me expectantly.

"That's .. nice." I tell her. She smiles winningly back at me.

Cinna smiles a half smile at me. "We've been working on altering it since we saw you first yesterday, to go better with your complexion, you know. And your skin tone is much lighter than we expected ... it gave us quite a shock. But you're really not too bad, you know. When I first saw your dress, I was shocked. It's very beautiful. Where is it now?"

It occurs to me that he thought I would still be wearing it. "I gave it to my mentor, Blight," I tell him. "for safekeeping, you know." _He'll give it to Riccy when I'm dead, _I thought. _And tell her that I tried my hardest. _

"We saw your interview!" Portia informs me. "About your father ... Oh, that's so sad! I mean, you and Blight could've known each other much better before this! Do you remember him much?" Without waiting for an answer, she speeds on. "Well, you'll be able to relate to Tigris, anyway. Her poor Moira... She's be here right now, you know, helping us make you over..." Portia appears near tears. "I do miss her so."

Cinna gives Portia a hug, then turns to me. "We all loved Moira, Tigris's daughter. She was so helpful..." his eyes mist over, before he snaps himself back into reality. "Well, it's time to get started!" he claps his hands, and several tables rise from the floor.

Portia smiles at me, all traces of sadness gone. "I love your outfit! Did Garnish help you pick that out? You might be the only tribute that's taken her up on her offer! She'll like you now, I'm sure! And the color looks so good on you, I hate to take it off!" Turning to Cinna, she asked, "Do you think we can dress her in this color during the interviews?"

"I think Tigris already has an idea," Cinna told her, smiling regretfully. Then, to me, "Don't worry, though. It's sure to be stunning. Tigris is amazing - everyone wants the clothes that you design, and you don't even have to pay anything!" They lead me to a dip in the floor, similar to the one I used this morning for a bath. The set the water running, and have me undress. I feel self-conscious as I slide into the water, but they reassure me that I have nothing to worry about. I quickly realize from their endless babble that they are innocent as kittens.

Cinna places his hand on a box, and a soap appears in the water, with a sharp tang to it that makes my nose itch. "Sorry," he says. "This is just going to get some of that dirt out of you, and some skin, too, so that we can take out all of those imperfections." Suppressing a feeling of insult, I notice that my skin is itching, when the floor comes alive and begins to roughly rub in the soap. I cry out in shock and pain - it is surely taking off those layers of skin that Cinna mentioned. Gritting my teeth, I endure it until the floor stops.

Portia smiles comfortingly at me. "That was good," she encourages as a sweet and relaxing scent reaches my nostrils. My body is now being coated in something soft, and the water is draining, the floor raising me up. "Last year, the girl screamed her head off. We had to fetch a medic to calm her down."

_No wonder, _I think, _I nearly scared myself to death. _But aloud, I only say, "How long have you two been a prep team?"

"Five years this year," Cinna tells me. "If you are not crowned victor, we shall be submitted as stylists for the next Games, likely as adjourning stylists, since we are already accustomed to working together."

Portia squeals in excitement. "It's my life's dream!" she confesses, sighing dramatically. "Overseeing a group of stylists just like Tigris does ..."

I have to suppress the strong need to puke for several moments. For them to get their promotion and fulfill their life's dreams, I have to die. They're probably hoping for my death right now. "What will happen to Tigris?"

They look blankly at me. "She'll keep designing, of course. She'll just get a new prep team to train. She's far too brilliant to be replaced!" They whisk me off to a table with a comfortable-looking lavender couch. They sit me in it and quickly warn me that I'm about to be in pain. They take out some beige-colored strips of wax and carefully place it all around me body - on my legs, face, stomach, arms, and so on. With another warning, Portia takes hold of one and rips it off quickly. I cry out in shock, my hand automatically going to the spot. There is no hair there.

"I'm so sorry," Portia apologizes, but I can see in her eyes that she's not sorry. She's going to do it again and again until all the strips (and hair) are gone. "Here, I'll give you warning this time. 1, 2, 3!" She rips off another, and I grit my teeth to keep from crying out again. "Cinna!" Portia calls. "let's just get it done quickly." Cinna nods and grabs another strip. They count off and rip. Over and over again until they are all gone and my entire body stings.

Cinna smiles at me. "You did well," he congratulates. "You didn't even cry." I blink, and nod, holding back the tears of pain in my eyes, not wanting him to see. "Here. This should help. The chair envelops me in a smooth, comforting lotion, and I let out a cry of relief as it seeps into my skin, easing all of the pain. I thank Cinna, and he only nods, handing me a robe.

They trim my hair, keeping it as similar to the way it was as possible, but making it an even line around my face. The bangs they make shorter, as Tigris instructed them too. I stare at the mirror. Never in District 7 would it have been so perfect. I can't say I don't like my new bangs, but part of me wishes that I was unchanged from the way I was in District 7.

Next they put a contraption around my mouth, encasing my teeth and making my jaw unable to move. They warn me again of pain and I tense, ready. There is a click, and stabbing pain in my teeth. I cry out, my hand flying to my mouth as the contraption leaves. I run my fingers around my mouth. My teeth are perfectly straight. Cinna takes out my hand gently and puts a foul tasting substance in my mouth and instruct me to keep my tongue still and not to salivate. I do so naturally several times, and we have to start over each time. But when it is over, I am allowed to wash out my mouth with minty tasting water, and look in the mirror. My teeth are straight and dazzlingly white.

They take charge of my nails - Cinna my feet, and Portia my hands. They trim them to perfect ovals and put a clear coating of substance on them that they swear is beneficial to their health. Then they examine my many calluses, and file them down to be less noticeable. Portia makes notes of them aloud, explaining to me that they will have to make alterations to my outfit to hide them.

Portia hands me several pills and instructs me to swallow them. Feeling reluctance, I ask her what they are for. She points at each one and tells me without hesitation, "This one is for breath, this one is for calming, this one for suppressing your womanly cycle for the duration of the Games, this one for slimness, and this one for resistance to disease before you go into the arena. All the tributes receive them." I swallow them without difficulty. They have no taste and dissolve onto my tongue.

When they decide that I am presentable to look at, they both give me a hug, and tell me that they're going to fetch Tigris. "You'll have to be kind to her, especially about her appearance," Cinna warns. "She's very sensitive these days. She's preferred her look ever since ... Moira died." I promise that I will be kind to Tigris, and they leave to fetch her.

I try to prepare myself for whatever sort of oddly-appearing, grieving stylist will appear in the room, but I am not prepared for what I see. Tigris is a tall woman (though I hesitate in using that word), with pointed teeth and very cat-like green eyes. Her ears are furry and striped golden brown, and a bit too far up on her head to call normal. Her nails are long and sharpened to a point. Short golden brown fur covers her body, and she wears no clothing. Visible only over her left shoulder is a striped tail to match her look. She is something between human and feline, but I can't decide which she is closer too. All the same, the sight of her makes me shiver.

"You are Fawn Dogwood," she purrs. I try to make my eyes return to their usual shape, but cannot find my voice. I give her a jerky nod instead. Tigris smiles in a very startling way. "I am Tigris," she informs me, as though I don't know. "and I am your stylist." I clear my throat, trying to find something to say, but fail. Tigris's smile broadens. "I am sorry if I scared you," she says, walking towards me in a prowling sort of way. "I prefer an odd appearance, even for the Capitol. I have possessed it for about half a year now, and still I attract stares. Many, though, I think, admire me."

I don't admire her, though I do pity her. I have seen mothers driven mad after their children die, especially if they were older. An infant dead is saddening, but a child that was well known dead is heartbreaking. Moira seems to be fitting into this second category. Though Tigris's way of coping with her daughter's death is horrendous, I can at least pity her for her situation. "I ... " I clear my throat again. "It's nice to meet you."

Appearing pleased that I have spoken, Tigris smiles again. "I hope that Cinna and Portia weren't too hard on you this morning. They can be quite annoying, I know. They'll understand your position when they become stylists, I expect. We all do."

I blink and nod. "They were very kind," I tell her. "They seemed to at least be concerned about whether or not they were putting me in pain."

"They want you to appear comfortable," Tigris informs me. "You appearance this year will have much to do with if they are accepted as full stylists next year. They are very anxious for you to succeed and be as noticeable as possible."_ They don't want me to win, though, _I think, but don't say this aloud. Tigris smiles again, "You must be very hungry. Let us go eat."

She leads me into a room with four walls made of glass, providing quite a view of the city. I pass the couch and table, staring at the Capitol in all its magnificence. The tall, candy colored buildings with sloping arches, and the busy streets with people driving and walking all over it. It is a picture of perfect paradise for those who live in it. I see lavender banners all over, proclaiming that the 70th Hunger Games is about to start. Fighting a sudden wave of sickness, I turn away to Tigris, who is sitting. "What do you think of my city?" she asks me, searching my eyes with those feline ones. I can't find any feeling in those eyes, and that scares me.

I hesitate before answering, "It is very pretty. And busy. Nothing like District 7."

She smiles knowingly. "But you'd rather be home in District 7, wouldn't you?" I nod, looking to the ground embarrassedly. "That's quite all right, dear," she tells me. "If I ever have a victor to visit, I'm sure that I would be homesick as well." I glance up and find her patting the spot beside her. "Please, come sit, and we can eat."

I join her as she presses a button, and food rises from the table. I stare at what food is being offered today, which is more extravagant than what I saw on the train for dinner and breakfast. Tigris presses another button and states, "No Avoxes needed." and the same cool female voice that was in my closet replies, "Confirmed."

"Avoxes?" I ask Tigris. "What are those?" I have heard the word before, but I had thought that Avoxes were just a myth, like Paul Bunyon or Red Cloak and the Big Bad Coyote.

Tigris gives me a surprised look. "Blight didn't already explain?" I shake my head, and she lets out a very cat-like hiss of frustration. "Avoxes," she says slowly and carefully. "are betrayers of Panem, revolutionists, you might say. Rebels. They are punished by the cutting out of their tongues, and serve as servants to the Capitol citizens for the rest of their lives."

I instinctively reach to hold my own mouth, no longer hungry. "Oh," I say. "That's ... that's horrible."

"Be careful who you say that to," Tigris warns me quickly. "Not everyone will we so tolerant of your remarks." She stares at me, and it occurs to me that she doesn't find the matter of Avoxes pleasant, either, but is unwilling to say so. I remember that we are probably under surveillance at this moment, and move my hand, nodding obediently. We turn to the food.

**~~~BTCS~~~**

Portia lets out a high squeal of excitement, and Cinna hushes her. I can only assume her excitement is caused by my gown, which has been put on me. My eyes are obediently squeezed shut, and I stay stone-still as they make adjustments to my hair and gown. Someone (I think it is Cinna) is stenciling lightly on my face. After several moments, Tigris purrs, "Open your eyes, Fawn."

My eyes snap open, partly from excitement and partly from worry. I let out a gasp. "I'm a nymph!" Cinna and Portia exchange confused looks, and Tigris's eyes narrow to slits in confusing. Of course, they wouldn't know the myths about the beautiful nymphs that spring from the trees which they can disappear into. Nymph ... that is Aria's pet name. My heart aches suddenly with homesickness. "Nymphs are creatures of the trees," I explain quickly. "They can become trees if they wish to hide from mortals. They are very rarely seen, but when they do appear before someone, it is to warn them of great danger in their future." Indeed, with my green-and-brown streaked clothes and skin, brown eyes with just a tint of gold added to them for the night, and leaf-strewn hair, I appear to have just sprung from the trees.

The stylist and prep team stare at me a moment. Then, Portia says, "I've never heard of N-imfhs before." I don't bother trying to correct her pronunciation. "But," she adds, "if they are very beautiful, then you are certainly one for this night."

A sudden wave of emotion for Portia rises in me, and her compliment truly touches my heart. "Thank you, Portia." I am actually pushing back tears from the emotional distress of the day, and Portia pats my back sympathetically, misunderstanding my distress. "You didn't look too bad before," she encouraged me. "We just had to bring out that beauty."

"She's right," Cinna reassures me, misunderstanding as well. "You were already rather beautiful." How this makes me think of River ... I push back the pang of distress.

I smile at the prep team, marveling at how childlike they are. Then I turn to Tigris, awaiting the last-minute instructions. She prowls around me three times before declaring, "You look good. Now, smile, keep your chin up and your back straight. Wave to the crowd, laugh, be thrilled to be here. Your interviews have them interested in you, but your appearance should keep your positive personality that you are showing them. Try to make it look like you're having the time of your life."

Feeling disgusted, I nod. Tigris smiles at me in her cat-like way. "Time to go to the chariots. We'll show you there, but we'll have to go to our seats before the parade starts."

I nod again. Portia and Cinna begin to tell me how amazing I look and how wonderful it will be when the crowd sees me. When they run out of compliments for me, they turn to Tigris. I can tell that they are thrilled how their last year of prepping is working out. And deep inside, they can't wait for me to die so that they can get their promotion.

**~~~~BTCS~~~~**

I stand awkwardly beside Raven, who is covered in pine needle-like material and has a striking headdress topped to a point. If I look at him through the corner of my eye and image that I'm in the forest, I can believe that he is a true pine tree. Once the stylists (his stylist is named Clio) and the prep teams have left, he tells me quietly that he thinks his outfit is, "like he walked throw a bed of pine needles and mud," which makes me laugh.

All of the tributes are standing in or beside their carriages, whispering to their district partners or petting the horses. Some, like Cabel Atom, Barley Harvester, Cotton Flinch, and Angela Herder, only stare at the wall. Those four, I realize, are the youngest among us. No twelve year olds were Reaped this year, but those four are thirteen and fourteen. They have the least chance of surviving, and none of them look like fighters. Of course, in the 63rd Hunger Games, when Finnick Odair volunteered, everyone thought the fourteen-year-old was insane. But when he broke from the Career alliance and used his golden trident to kill off all the others, we were shocked. No one has underestimated a young tribute again.

The Careers this year, Shyne, Luster, Geniss, Mason, Syren, and Tide are standing in a huddle, laughing and joking. It really _is _a vacation for them, I realize. They volunteered to have fun and win all the glory. Of course, I'd known this before, but it takes seeing them laughing and jeering, knowing that one of them will kill me for the full effect to set in.

"What do you think?" I whisper to Raven. "Blight said allies were a good idea..." _and so did the Mist Troop, _I think.

Raven nods slightly, glancing around quickly, as though afraid to be caught looking. "Yeah .. but is now really the time, you think? I mean .. the Careers are over there acting like they just can't wait to tear our heads off."

"Acting?" I ask darkly, but I drop this quickly, remembering to stay positive. "Well ... they can't get us yet. Remember, it's against the rules, and there's doubtlessly cameras all around. I say we give it a try. I mean, we've got plenty of time." He makes a sound in his throat that I'm not sure is agreement, but I ignore it, remembering the people I thought most trustworthy last night. I try and give Rye Brown, the girl from 9, a smile, but she snarls aloud back at me, and I look quickly away.

Chuckling, Raven comments, "Some people may not want allies."

I let out a snort. "Obviously not." Grant Farmer, from 10, is looking fixedly at his feet, and doesn't respond to any friendly looks I give him. Over his shoulder, Maze Fields, from 11, smiles back at me. I give her a genuine smile, glad that someone isn't shunning me. I nudge Raven. "Look. Over there. District 11."

Maze, her dark skin transformed into an ear of corn, is speaking with her partner, October Harvest, who is dressed as a pumpkin, very quickly. They appear to be having a quiet argument. Raven looks away, appearing embarrassed, but I look on eagerly. Friends or foes, it is good to know as much about these tributes as I can. _"I'll try. I really will."_

After a long moment, October's shoulders sag in defeat. They exchange few more words, and head towards up, Maze leading with an eager smile. Upon climbing onto our tree-decorated carriage, she sticks out her hand. "Hello," she is addressing me, as Raven is still looking away. Her voice is a pretty alto, and the moment I hear it, I'm sure that she sings. "I'm Maze Fields, from District 11." Her cheery smile shows a hint of doubt in the pause it takes me to respond.

"Hello." I tell her. "I'm Fawn Dogwood, District 7." I smile and prod Raven next to me. He turns around, making a bad attempt at a smile, but doesn't introduce himself. With a badly hidden sigh, I add, "and this is Raven Carpenter, my district partner."

Maze beams and her partner, his bright orange hair matching his pumpkin costume, gives me a half-smile. "I'm October Harvest." With a sly smile, he adds, "Fancy meeting you here."

I laugh slightly, unsure of how to respond to humor, which I haven't heard much of lately. "Fancy that. It's nice meeting you both." Raven mutters agreements under his breath.

"Everyone seems so ... tense," Maze observes, looking around. "I mean, we're on vacation, aren't we? Where's the fun at?"

"Maze," October waves his finger at her as though scolding her. "The nice Gamemakers already arranged a parade just for us. Don't complain. What more do you want, to be on live television?" His humor is refreshing, and ever Raven cannot keep from laughing. Several people start and the sound of pure, un-sneering laughter, and stare at us.

Maze chuckles, "Aren't we the life of the party?" which earns another peal of laughter, myself among the loudest.

A cool female voice with the heavy Capitol accent announces, "Tributes, to your carriages. The parade shall begin in 60, 59, 58 ..." I am struck by realization that we have sixty seconds before the actual Games begin as well, and suddenly feel sick again. Maze and October bid Raven and I goodbye, with an odd gesture - one hand atop the other, with both palms facing up. Raven and I respond with the standard District 7 motion with our right hands over our hearts, and our left raised to the sky.

The voice counts down, "42, 41, 40 ..." as Raven and I mount the carriage. I tighten my hands on the carriage, dreading the moment when I am before the despicable Capitol crowds. Raven shakes his head at me. "Smile," he reminds me, quoting Tigris and Clio. "Head up." I sigh and do so, glancing back at Maze and October, climbing into their carriage. "30, 19, 18, 17 ..."

I straighten my mossy, long hair about me, mainly for something to do. "10, 9, 8 .." I straighten up, sharing a grimace with Raven, before plastering on my very best winning smile. "5, 4, 3, 2, 1." Let it begin. Deafening cheers and blinding light.

**~~~~~BTCS~~~~~**

_Any thrilled Tigris fans? Yes? No? Portia fans? Everyone's a fan of Cinna, right? I am yet to meet a Cinna hater... Please review. It makes my day. Really, it does :D Plus, spoilers for those who review .. if you want them. I'm not going to force them on you._


	8. II CAPITOL

**PART II. PREPARING.  
CHAPTER 8. CAPITOL.**

_So I do now have some readers. And some reviews. But not enough people on story alert! Seriously, people, if you want to read the fic, you need to know when it is updated! Put me either on story or author alert! That being said, I really do enjoy talking to some people about this fic - there's much more (much, much, more!) to come. Please stick with me here!_

_I come through with some of my explanation promises in this chapter - enjoy them, but normally, these explanations will have more build-up. Remember, PM or Review!_

**~BTCS~**

District 1's carriage leaves first, amid the screams of the crowd, much louder than any falling tree that I've ever heard. I glance at tributes Luster and Shyne, encrusted in gems, as they speed out of the Remake Center. The voice counts announces, "District 2, in three, two, one ..." and Gneiss and Mason, dressed as huge chunks of rock, follow District 1. The cheers grow ever louder, and I think that I hear music amid the noise somewhere.

Pixel and Chip follow in their outfits that change colors ever quickly, and Tide and Syren follow them as a fish and a wave, respectively. By the time that Scarlett and Cabel exit in their sparking outfits, my stomach is twisting in anxiety. I'm casting around for something to hold onto as I give myself to the Capitol, and it is River's voice echoing throughout my mind that keeps me sane. "Fight," he says. "make them love you. Just be yourself, and they won't be able to help it." As Jet and Ryder, a hovercraft and a train, speed off, I plaster on my very best smile, and fix my hands on the chariot, preparing myself for the jerk. "District 7, in three, two, one ..."

Raven and I are jerked out of the Remake Center, and the cheers rise again for us. I spot a girl, pink eyes shining, jumping up and down in excitement. I meet those strange pink eyes, and smile wider as I realize her genuine excitement as seeing a tribute. She screams, delighted to my having seen her, and then I'm speeding on. A man is leaning out of his seat, apparently so transfixed with the excitement of seeing me that he cannot stay in his seat. Indeed, at this point in the parade, most of the people are standing, jumping, and screaming like children. _Children, _I think. _That's all they are. _And, just as I would if they were real children, realizing that I am the cause for their excitement, I become elated. I lift my hand to wave at a woman holding a violet dog, and the people around her all wave back enthusiastically. I blow a kiss to a small boy with a large lavender hat, and everyone reaches out as though to catch my kiss.

After that, the people and their colors blend together in an inferno of color, light, and sound as I speed by. I wave and blow kisses, smiling so hard that it hurts, and, for a moment, I forget that I am a tribute. It is like Maze said, this is all just a vacation, and I'll be going home soon.

The music grows louder as we reach the President's mansion, which I recognize easily from television broadcasts. Seeing the cheering crowds, I realize that this is their Festival. It takes hearing the music for the connection to dawn upon me, and for the snow in my brain to melt and let me see the ground. They are celebrating, and I am in their celebration. Caught up in the euphoria around me, my voice raises subconsciously to join the music, adding my voice to the chaos around me that is the Capitol.

The music ends with a flourish that I follow, cutting off abruptly as the chariots stop at the same moment. I gaze at the horses in surprise of their very Gamemaker-planned stop. Shaking off the feeling that thinking of the Gamemakers gives me, I turn my eyes to President Snow, atop his famous balcony. His hair is snow white, and his rose as crisply red as it appears on the screens around District 7's community square in Redwood, where surely everyone I know is watching him now ... He stands without trouble, a feat unheard of for someone so old back home, and approaches the podium where he will deliver the same speech he always gives. "Welcome," he begins. His voice isn't unpleasant; he could be a transfixing singer. However, everyone in the districts live in fear that we will hear it in person. "Tributes, we welcome you."

This raises a huge cheer from the crowd, which had momentarily gone silent in anticipation of the words. I think that some persons of the crowd have taken up the call, "Welcome, tributes, welcome!" Others have picked out their favorite outfits and are calling their welcome to specific tributes, whose names they have looked up in the lavender-embossed programs. Every so often, I will catch the sound of my own name being chanted among the others. Most of the crowd simply screams.

"We salute your courage," President Snow announced, "and your sacrifice." The crowd screams in approval, and I feel sick. Sacrifice ... of my life. 23 of the tributes in the parade will be dead within a month or two. Pushing back my nausea, I force a smile at the crowd. "We wish you," President Snow's hands are out, motioning downwards for relative silence like some great conductor of music, which Web has explained to me, though I've never seen one. "Happy Hunger Games!" the screams grow louder and louder, screaming 'Happy Hunger Games!' as Snow delivers his final line, "And may the odds be ever in your favor."

The chariots at once set forth again, but I am not even startled this time. Seeing the President has subdued my mood somewhat, reminding me why they are celebrating, but I push back this feeling and simply wave at more of the silly people. I don't dare glance at Raven beside me, but I catch sight of a screen showing us. He appears to be just as thrilled as I do, but I can hardly stare at our picture because we are whizzing right by it.

The horses turn a sharp, uniform corner and a building lies in front of us - the Tribute Training Center, nicknamed the Tribute Tower because of its immense height. My stomach turns at the sight of it, but the crowd is still everywhere, and I force myself to smile and wave still as we race towards my final home before the arena. Very quickly, Raven and I are swallowed up by the building. The horses stop beside the carriage with Jet Rails and Ryder Wheel still inside of it, looking slightly surprised at the spectacle we all just observed. I offer both of them a tentative smile as Cotton Flinch and Thread Coil, dressed in long garments of many fabrics, rush in, but the District 6 tributes look steadfastly away.

Sighing, I turn to watch Rye Brown and Barley Harvester, dressed in the color and texture of grain, enter, with Angela Herder and Grant Farmer, a horse and a pig, right behind them. Maze beams at me as she and October follow, and I can't resist smiling back. Something about her grin is infectious. As Hestia Flamel and Cole Miner, dressed in baggy coal miner outfits, enter, the doors slide closed without flourish, and the screams are muted.

The silence is eyrie until the tributes start muttering to each other, and the stylists, prep teams, mentors, and escorts rush in to meet the tributes. Cinna and Portia reach District 7's carriage first, closely followed by Raven's prep team. They immediately help us down, exclaiming over our outfits, the reactions of the Capitol, and so on. Tigris and Clio congratulate us on a job well done, and Tigris's tail twitches slightly - she doesn't appear to have much control over its movement. Garnish, beaming at Raven and I, leads us all away from the carriage and into a large glass elevator. The team from District 4 wordlessly join us, and I study the mentors despite myself. There are as many as seventeen victors accompanying this year's tributes, and I recognize only a few - Finnick Odair, Mags, Sea Shine, and last year's victor, Annie Cresta. The victors exchange small talk with Blight, but avoid looking at me or Raven. The rest of their team speaks to their counterparts from District 7 eagerly, boasting about their own district's costumes loudly.

The girl, Syren Seeh, smirks at me, nudging her partner. "Look at the scrawny things that District 7 has to offer this year," she snorts, pointing to me and Raven. Tide snorts a laugh in reply.

My fingers curl into a fist that I hide behind my back as the glass doors slide closed and the elevator shoots upwards in a blur of color. My eyes, however, are focused on Syren's face. I know, inside of me somewhere, that what she said is wrong - I am as fit as her, and much more weathered. However, Raven, staring fixedly at the floor beside me, is not, and I am angry for his sake. However, before I can decide how to react, the elevator has slowed to a halt at floor 4, and the cool voice announces, "District 4." The District 4 team empties out. Syren shoots me a smirk before exiting, flanked by Finnick Odair and Sea Shine. Tide bumps roughly into Raven's shoulder, knocking him against the glass before exiting last of his party.

I swallow deeply, clenching my fists as Floor Four speeds away and the voice announces, "District 7," as the elevator eases to a halt. Garnish leads the way into the apartment, trilling, "Time for the tour, Raven, Fawn!" Raven, rubbing his shoulder, follows her out and, fists still clenched as I remember Syren's smirk, I follow him. "This," Garnish waves her hand at the extravagant, lime green and lavender room decorated with chairs and a table. "is where we will dine. And over here," she leads us into a room similarly decorated with a curved couch and a window overlooking the city, which is rather beautiful from this height. People on the streets below are almost bugs on the sidewalks. "This is where we will watch all of the recapping."

Raven gives her an odd look. "What television?" It takes me a moment to realize that there is no screen in sight - I am still too angry with Syren and Tide for anything else to make sense to me.

Garnish laughs her high-pitched laugh and waves her hand aimlessly. There must have been a pattern of some sort to it, though, because the television switches to a picture of my own face. Flinching, I let out a squeak of surprise. "Oooh, sorry, dearie," Garnish chuckles, attempting to make her laughter drown out the words of the announcer. Before she waves it off, though, I hear, "the odds are favoring Fawn Dogwood, District 7's female tribute, less so than they did last year's Willow Hardwood..." As the window returns to the spectacular view, I try to ignore the trembling in my stomach. Last year, Willow Hardwood was from a scouting town like me, and was eighteen years old. She died in the Bloodbath, trying to get an axe.

Blight clears his throat and motions to two doors nearby. "Those are your rooms. Raven's is the close, and Fawn's the farthest." I barely glance at the room, unable to think about what he was saying.

"Do you want to watch the recapping of the Opening Ceremonies?" Garnish asks Raven and I eagerly. I glance at Raven, and we shake our heads in unison. "I need some time to .. think," I tell her honestly, feeling as though a million tons of lumber have been dropped onto my shoulders. Raven mumbles something similar to this.

Garnish looks displeased, but Blight gives us a half-smile. "You can go to your rooms for the night," he says kindly, "Garnish shall wake you for training in the morning. We can talk then." Ducking my head in agreement, I walk towards my room with Raven as the rest of the team walks to the dining-room, where the smell of food is nearly tempting enough to change my mind.

When the door slides closed, I turn immediately to Raven, clenching my fists again. "Now, _that," _I spit. "made me angry."

Looking alarmed at my sudden anger, Raven reaches out his hand, seeming unwilling to make physical contact. "Whoa, Fawn. Really, it's fine. It didn't really hurt, anyway. And it's not like they can do anything, not really ... not yet."

"That's just the thing," I give him a dark look. "Not yet."

**~~BTCS~~**

I stare at the window that I know is a television. "Um, turn on the television, please." The window changes to a television screen, with Lavinia on screen again, this time with the man who interviewed me back in District 7, Giovanni, whom Cinna swore that she is sweet upon. "Looking back on the past Games is an exciting part of the pre-Games," Giovanni is saying to the cameras. "Here's the final moments of last year's Games."

The screen changes to a canyon-like landscape, mostly flooded with water. A girl with long, tangled dark hair hides behind a large boulder, while a boy with sandy blonde hair slouches beside the campfire, holding a wickedly curved blade. The girl glances around the rock, spotting the boy, and draws back, taking a deep breath. She pulls out a small dagger - her last weapon, Giovanni reminds us, and strokes it gently. The girl, Annie Cresta, has already lost much of her sense from when her partner was beheaded, with her cornered and forced to watch. Her sudden stroke of madness saved her life, giving her the fuel to shove her sword into the boy from District 1's stomach.

She closes her eyes, obviously reliving the moment, and when her dark eyes open, a trace of sense has been lost from them. I remember shuddering last year when I watched this, and covering Creta's eyes. Without warning or preparation, she leaps out from behind the rock silently and hurdles the dagger towards the boy with the sandy blonde hair. He moves at the last moment, hearing its whizz, and instead of hitting his heart, it misses by several inches to the right. Annie Cresta scrambles back behind the rock, scared of his blade now, unaware that she had hit him in her wild state.

After a few moments, she realizes that the boy is of no harm to her, and crawls out from behind the rock. The boy is now curled on the ground, coughing up blood and cringing. No scream falls from his lips, and a grimace covers his face. Annie puts her hand against her mouth. "Marbel," she gasps, remembering him now from the Career alliance, long since broken up. "Marbel!" she crouches down and shakes off her orange jacket, to press it on the wound that she had willingly inflicted only moments before. "Oh, Marbel, Marbel!"

The boy stares up at Annie for a moment, his mouth a perfect 'o.' Then he grunts out, "Cresta... what in the name of Panem are you ..."

"Don't talk!" Annie is seized by a tremor of panic. "No, don't! I'm so sorry, Marbel! I ... I cut you. Just like _he _did ..." Her eyes loose themselves in madness again, and she lets out a high, pure scream, falling to the ground and rocking about. "I should've stopped him," she sobs. "I should've ... I should've killed him!"

Marbel sizes up in a tremor again, and coughs up another bit of blood. Before he can finish his cough, however, his eyes glaze over, and his body looses all resistance and falls to the ground. Annie, sensing that he is done moving, leans over to stroke his blood-stained face. "I'm sorry," she whispers.

The picture cuts back to Giovanni and Lavinia, the latter looking breathless from the scene. "Oh, I do so love that!" she gasps, trilling on to compare Annie to Syren. I tune this out, loathe to be reminded of the District 4 tributes, and try to remember what life was like only a year ago, knowing that I was safe for another year, and watching children die on the screen; being thankful I wasn't among them. This year I am. This year, other children I don't know will watch me and be thankful that I was reaped instead of them.

Shuddering, I turn my attention back to the television where fourteen-year-old Finnick Odair is being charged by a girl with bright red hair - District 5's female tribute had made it into the bottom three that year. The girl, Spark, as Lavinia informs me, is armed with a crossbow, now emptied, and a spear with two heads. Thinking back, I remember Spark's weapon now. She had made it herself, and called it Embers. She now charges with Embers held tightly in her hands, towards Finnick, holding a golden trident.

It is obvious from the start that Finnick is far more talented than Spark in combats. However, he toys with her for several long minutes before pinning her to the ground, and throwing Embers aside. She snarls at him, trying to bite his fingers (Giovanni calls her an Enobaria), but Finnick evades her. Normally, this is the part of the fight where any Career would torture their victim to prolong the show. However, Finnick has already proved himself extraordinary by breaking from the Career alliance and killing all but one of his would-be-allies, the exception being his district partner. And again, he does something out of the ordinary. He slits Spark's throat and stands off, dusting his hands.

Lavinia and Giovanni's faces again fill the screen, and Lavinia teases her boyfriend about how cute Finnick was, even at only fourteen years old. Giovanni plays the part perfectly, appearing jealous and amused at the same time. I stare at them, wondering if River and I would have ever been like that. Would we have joked like that, knowing that our futures were set in stone, and forever we would be safe and fed? _I'll try. I really will. _If I won, things could still end up that way.

"Back to the program!" Giovanni wildly changes the subject. "Next up is Blight Lumber - victor of the 60th Hunger Games!" My shock is closely followed by guilt, and it crosses my mind that I should turn off the program - this is private footage to Blight, and no one else, even if the Capitol has decided to broadcast it. But the scene has already popped up, and I'm staring at a desert.

Caught by curiosity, I stare at the landscape. It's mounds of said are constantly blowing about, and small prickly plants are everywhere. I spot snakes and scorpions hiding in the sand, ready to leap out at any tribute who was unlucky enough to pass. And there is not a body of water in sight. Blight, his dark skin stark against the landscape, is only about seventeen, and is sitting down, staring at the sky, obviously in deep thought. Behind him is a muscular boy, bearing traits that come from District 1. A Career.

The boy from District 1 is holding a sword identical to the one sitting beside Blight. Of course, swords are the most popular weapon in the Games. I suppose it's not odd that Blight would gravitate towards it. However, Giovanni goes on and on, commentating about how meaningful the twin swords are. Apparently, the term 'twin swords' has become a synonym to 'Blight Lumber.' Taking a deep breath, District 1 lets out a low whistle.

I am surprised by how quickly Blight is on his feet with his sword at the ready, pointing towards the boy from District 1. "Crimson," he states. "you have found me."

Crimson is tense, with his sword at the ready, a mirror image of Blight. His voice, however, is completely calm as he comments, "You hid well." He pauses. "How have you survived this long?" he appears truly surprised and pained, which Lavinia explains by stating that they used to be allies, before Crimson left Blight for the Career pack.

"I have a few tricks that I was careful not to show you." Blight's eyes show pain at the memory, but he hurries on. "I'm not surprised that you survived so long. You always were the victor, Crimson." The boy from District 1 only stares at Blight in shock. After a long pause, Blight rearranges his hands upon the hilt. "Your name is intriguing to me, Crimson."

The boy blinks. "You've told me."

Ignoring this, Blight continues, "Though you abandoned me, I've seen nothing but crimson in this place."

"I didn't abandon you!" Crimson appears angered. "I just ..." he stops, unable to continue. Blight, however, appears ready to wait for him to speak. Taking a deep breath from between his teeth, Crimson states, "I didn't want it to be us in the bottom two."

Blight chuckles darkly. "So much for that."

Agitated, Crimson hisses, "Let's - let's just do this." He grips his sword tighter, allowing Blight time to do so as well, and lunges toward his former ally with surprising, expertise skill. Blight meets him with identical skill, striking the twin swords together. They begin to spar with expertise skill, and both of their faces broke into feverishly excited looks as they moved ever faster, trying to find a break in each other's defenses. I stand, staring at the screen. Will I be engaged in such competitive combat at some point in the Games? Will I be this close to death?

In the end, Crimson breaks Blight first, slashing open his shoulder. While Blight cringes, and lets a hand fly to his bleeding shoulder, Crimson pushes him to the ground. When Blight tries to struggle, Crimson strikes his forehead mercilessly, and, blood flowing into his eyes, Blight goes slack. "Please," he whispers, tears in his voice. "Just ... make it quick. For an old friend."

Crimson blinks, and realization floods his eyes. Ever so slowly, he lowers his blade, and backs away. "Blight ... I ..."

But he never finishes his sentence, because Blight thrusts the blade that Crimson didn't take from him into his former ally's stomach. Crimson's face lights up with surprise as he abruptly falls to the ground. The screen cuts to Blight's face as he kneels beside the fallen District 1 tribute. Crimson chokes out, "You won - that's the first ... time."

Blight's face is solemn. "Sorry," a pained expression crosses his face. "but there's only one ... victor."

Crimson smiles. "Congratulations, Blight. The odds really were in your favor." His face slackens into a cringe as he lets out a weak cough. Almost immediately after the cough subsides, fair features slacken, and Crimson leaves his body forever.

I stare blankly at the television screen for several long minutes before he clears his throat. Years of scouting allows me to spin around in a millisecond. Blight stands before me, his arms folded and gaze determined, though I can sense sadness behind his gaze. The fact that I didn't hear him enter scares me - I need my senses where I am going. Blight sharply motions at the window, and Giovanni and Lavinia's faces melt into the blackness again. I stare at Blight's dark face as though seeing him for the first time. He stares back at me. After a long pause, he speaks.

"Being a tribute it a nightmare, but being a victor is a nightmare you can't escape from. More often than not, I wish that I would've let Crimson kill me. I wish that I would've let him live this nightmare life instead of me." I can't breathe, staring at Blight in anticipation of his words. "Nightmares plague me every night. I haven't slept well in years." His expression is helpless as he stares at his hands. "I'm a _murderer. _I have to live knowing that I - I killed children." He stares at me hopelessly, and I stare back. "And each year," his voice is hoarse, "two more children come, and when they die, I know that it is my fault."

I choke out the words, "Blight, I ... I'm sorry. I should've turned it off..."

But Blight waves off my apology. "No, this way is better. Now you know - now you at least have warning of what it's like ..." he meets my eyes again, but this time (for the first time) I feel like he is seeing me. "You scout?" Memories of the Crecent Moon Troop come to me, and, throat dry, I only nod. "You're used to having allies, then."

"Raven and I spoke with Maze and October from District 11," I confess. "and they were nice enough. But ... " I motion to what is again a window, showing a busy, lavender-plasted street. After seeing the footage showing that Blight and his ally were in the bottom two, and Annie's district partner loosing his head, I am far more reluctant to make allies with even Raven.

Blight sighs. "You're used to having someone to help you; to watch your back - actually a whole troop of people. You aren't used to fighting on your own, and you won't survive very long without them."

"I won't be able to trust them like I do my troop!" I protest. "They will want me to ... to die!"

"Not by their own hand," Blight protests. In my mind, I see Crimson backing away from defeated Blight. "and they'll want you to win if they don't."

I take a deep breath, staring at the blue and silver patterned floor. "I don't see how it will matter," I tell him. "I won't win anyway." Syren's sneering face, and Tide pushing Raven come to mind.

Blight takes a step towards me, his face conflicted. "Don't - don't count yourself out. Winning may be hard, but you can't stop fighting. You have two sisters at home, right? How do you want them to see you on the televisions in the square?" He pauses, as though considering his words. "How would you feel if you saw Raven's face in the sky?" I know immediately - guilty. I would immediately take the blame, because I wasn't there to save him.

I swallow hard. "All right - I see your point. But I still don't like it."

He pats my arm. "I know." A pause during which I stare at the floor some more. "What do you think of Tigris?"

I glance up at him, surprised. "She is ... a very interesting person. Emerald told me about her daughter - Moira."

At the mention of Moira's name, Blight's face draws into creases, just like everyone else on the team's has. "Yes, Moira's death was tragic, indeed. It really showed Tigris just how -" Blight cuts himself off, looking startled, as though he nearly told a secret. "Well, tomorrow begins training. We can talk more about your strategies for the day tomorrow, but I do want you to establish a sense of trust with Raven, October, and Maze. You're right - you won't trust them like your troop at first. You need to learn how."

I nod, silently and reluctantly agreeing, and still wondering what Blight was about to say before he cut himself off. "Good sleep," Blight wishes me, as is custom in District 7, especially towards mothers and their children. Hearing the words bring me a great sense of homesickness, but I don't let on as I tell him, "Good sleep." and he leaves without another word.

**~~~BTCS~~~**

_I don't know if any of you remember what Katniss said about Annie's Games, but it was surprisingly detailed for Katniss :p Something about her going mad after her partner was beheaded, a dam breaking, and her surviving to the bottom two because of her swimming abilities. Don't get me wrong, I love Katniss, but she really can be so ... blunt. Anyway, that's my version of Annie's story... any thoughts?_

_Please PM or Review! People will be more likely to read this fic if it has a ton of reviews and followers! Plus, it really makes my day!_


	9. II TRAINING

**PART II. PREPARING.  
CHAPTER 9. TRAINING.**

_Did you know that the glass televisions mentioned in the last chapter and in this one are actually possible now, and may be possible to such an extent as described soon. Heard of Google Glass? Look it up. It's mind blowing - I want a Google Glass room. No, an entire house made of Google Glass. Haha, when I get published I'll totally do that._

**~BTCS~**

Like Blight, I am beginning to find that I cannot sleep without nightmares plaguing me. I sit on my bed, bathed in sweat, wishing the room would cool, and staring at the walls. Last night, Maze's face born down upon me with a bright silver, shining weapon. October and Raven laughed loudly as I screamed in pain, withering in the hot air, unable to move or breathe.

I shudder, disliking the fact that I remembered. I glance around the room, looking for something to distract me. According to the room's clock (which we were taught to read only because of the clock in Redwood's square, the only one I'd seen before coming to the Capitol) it is still early morning for the Capitol at least - 7 o'clock. Getting up, I turn to the window-television. "Show me ... show me the President's mansion." Immediately, the bright, buzzing streets of the Capitol disappear to show a regal picture of the President's Mansion, bathed in blackness. I was there, only a few hours ago, in front of all of Panem, smiling and cheering. How did I manage to appear so happy when I am truly so miserable? A line from President Snow's speech comes to my mind, _"We salute your sacrifice."_

My voice choked, I say, "Show me District 7." The screen changes to the square in Redwood, still playing video even this late, though little to no people are watching the footage at this hour. I search the people's faces, and don't recognize any of the sleepless people. Are they Raven's family? Friends? Seeing even the dismal square, still decorated in lavender, makes me homesick, and the words slip from my lips, "Show me District 7's forest."

Immediately, the sound of the forest is around me, and I stare at the pine trees, tall and stubborn in the mountains around them. Snow is falling gently, lying in the small heaps of snow. A white rabbit shoots out from a heap, bouncing past me. Instinctively, I reach for my knife, but find empty air. Of course, I'm not really back in District 7, I think mournfully. I'm stuck here.

"T-turn it off." The window is a true window again, showing the busy streets of the Capitol. Shaken, I walk to the bath-room and mess with the dials until my room is filled with cool steam, which makes me relax visibly. I enter the closet and touch the screen beside the silver poles. I'll need something to wear to training. "Good morning, Miss Dogwood," the closet greets me. "You are wishing to program your outfit for the day?"

I nod, remembering that the closet will monitor this, and continue without my vocal response. "As the lucky female tribute of District 7 in the 70th Hunger Games, your outfit has already been programmed for the training session today." I blink, surprised. It takes me a moment to recall that, in the past years, all of the tributes matched in the training sessions. "Shall I bring out the outfit now, or would you like to pick something else out for before the training session."

The idea of wearing an outfit for three hours is silly to me - but apparently, in the Capitol, this is a standard choice. "Just bring it right out." And immediately, so quick that I can't register the movement, a black jumper with red-striped shoulders, and the number 7 printed on either shoulders and the back. There are small black shoes made to perfectly fit me feet as well. I remove both, thank the closet, and return to the mist-ed bathroom.

By now, I have figured out how to use the bathroom so that it has become almost an automatic skill. Portia explained how to use it in detail for me, and helped me commit the process to memory, so I now use it without difficulty. I begin with a spray that leaves my skin tingling. When the tingling stops, a soap is squirted on, and water washes the soap down the drain, leaving the floor completely dry. Next, three different kinds of lotion that each benefit my skin in some forgotten ways. The same process is repeated on my face, hands, and feet. Then my nails are clipped, shined, and polished. My eyebrows are pricked and made perfect. My teeth are cleaned and shined. My hair is blown straight, and then curled in the same fashion. Using a hair tie that appears out of my request, I pull my hair back into a perfect poneytail, and stare at myself. Scout. Sister. Daughter. Preformer. Tribute. What am I, now? Staring into my own brown eyes, I find that I can't tell anymore.

"Fawn! It's time to eat!" Emerald bustles into the bath-room, and I retreat from the mirror, looking at her lavender outfit today, which includes seven inch heels. "Oh, good," she says. "you found the training outfit just fine. You look nice today, though, if I may ..." she looks at me pleadingly, but I shake my head.

"No, not today, Emerald," I tell her. "I'm just going as I am, for today, since it's training."

Face falling, my escort reassures me that it's fine, and that I look nice anyway, but I am not fooled - she was looking forward to dressing me up like a doll. I wonder if Emerald always wanted to be a stylist, but somehow ended up as an escort. "Well, let's go eat, then!" Emerald leads me from my bedroom and into the dining room, laden with food. The servants in red, Avoxes, stand around it with their hands behind their backs. Suddenly, smelling the food, I am reminded that I skipped dinner last night. I sit down immediately between Portia and Raven, and load up my plate with the sweat breads.

Blight glances up at me and Raven. "So, today is the first of the tree days of training that is allotted for the tributes. Have either of you considered a strategy for today?"

Raven immediately shakes his head, looking down at his plate in apparent guilt. Blight looks at me expectantly, and I remember what he said last night. I hesitate, remembering my dream from last night, before sighing in frustration and say in a low tone, "Make friends with Maze and October."

Appearing pleased, my mentor nods in agreement. "Establish trust with them - trust is as valuable as food in the arena, and sometimes it is harder to obtain. I also want you to learn something new today - both of you. Focus on what you do not know."

Emerald perks up. "What _are _you experienced with, Raven, Fawn?"

I glance at Raven, and immediately know that I am to speak first. Closing my eyes, I allow the list of strengths that I've subconsciously built up to roll over my mind like clear water. "I'm good at using knives - really good. After knives, I'd choose an ax as my weapon." Though we aren't allowed to carry axes or knives around, I have become accustomed to the weapons by lumberjacking and scouting. "I've killed coyotes before. I climb a lot while scouting, and I have a really good sense of direction. I'm fast, and I know a good bit about building fires and tying knots."

"You should work on edible plants," Raven's stylist, Clio, suggests. "not many things grow in District 7, right? Because it's so cold?" I nod in agreement, and she claps her hands twice as though congratulating herself.

Blight nods in approval of Clio's comment. "There will be many animals for you to study as well - there may be wildlife you aren't accustomed to seeing in the arena. By the way of weapons, I think that you should try whatever you can get your hands on. Spears, specifically - they are the most common weapon in the arena after knives." He pauses, considering, and scratching the stubble on his chin that appeared overnight. "If I had to wager a guess, though, I'd say that you'd be most proficient in a bow - maybe even a crossbow - or a sword. There's no guaranteeing what will and won't be in the arena, so it's good to be well rounded." He turns to Raven, an eyebrow raised. "And what about you, Mr. Carpenter?"

Raven looks at Blight for a moment, then comments, "By the way of knowledge outside and weapons?" Blight gives this a curt, 'yes.' Taking a deep breath, Raven continues, "I can tie a good knot. Uh ... I'm pretty strong. Not anything like Mason Flint, from District 2." I can tell that he is suppressing the fear from his eyes as he says Mason's name, and a wave of anger washes over me. Suddenly, I understand Blight's point. I wouldn't be able to live with myself if I didn't try to protect Raven - poor, weak Raven.

Emerald looks my district partner up and down for a moment, and decrees, "Strong is strong. Strength can be an important factor in the arena. Do you remember, a few years ago, when Shore from District 4 killed his opponents by dropping rocks on them?" I shudder. I do remember that year - it was horrible to watch the children, one after another, get crushed under rocks. Shore was killed in a landslide that he actually created, a great coincidence in the minds of the Capitol citizens.

"You'll be good at hand-to-hand combat, I'd wager," Blight changes the subject quickly. The female tribute of District 7 that year, Oak Autumn, was killed by Shore's falling rocks. "And strength is important, so lifting weights isn't a bad idea. Today, however ... I would focus on survival skills, since you haven't had the chance to work on them before - running, climbing, camouflage, poisonous berries, and so on. You should try some weapons, too - they'll come in handy, even if you are a primary hand-to-hand combatant."

Raven nods in agreement, and we glance at each other. Our schedules for the day sound pretty different - we'll have to split up. Vaguely, I wonder if Maze and October's strengths and weaknesses are similar to ours or not. I return to my plate of food, suddenly very nervous about the training sessions. As I tear pieces of cinnamon bread and let them melt in my mouth, I run through my strengths again, remembering where it is best to hit a rabbit with a knife, where to find the easily footholds in a tree, and what wood is best for a fire that produces no smoke.

After a few minutes, Blight wipes his mouth, and stands. Avoxes hurry to clear his place, and he completely ignores these silent servants. I can't help but look at them with pity, though I know that if I were to dare speak to them, it would only mean trouble for all of us. "Fawn, Raven," my head flies back to face Blight. "Let's go down to the training room."

I nod, wiping my own mouth and standing. Avoxes rush to get my plate as well, and I avoid looking at them, embarrassed as I brush crumbs off of my training outfit. Raven stands beside me, doing the same thing to his identical outfit, and we leave the room with Blight as the rest of the team calls out encouragement to us.

We enter the elevator, and Blight presses the button labeled, 'Training' and the elevator zooms downwards in an exhilarating rush of color, smoothly stopping as a voice announces, "District 5's floor." I blink to re-orient myself as Scarlett Wires, long red hair swept into a poneytail, and young Cabel Atom, looking grim, step into the elevator. They are accompanied by Flame Electric, the victor of the 57th Hunger Games. Flame nods to Blight, and Blight nods back, his eyes sweeping the tribute from this year.

Cabel looks over at me, curiosity covering his gaze. Quickly, I look away. I have too many allies already - I cannot afford to become attached to this small, curious boy. As the elevator speeds down, I study Scarlett out of the corner of my eye. When I see her face, set upon the wall, two words come to me: smart and determined. She could be a formidable foe. I make a note to keep an eye on her. Will she make an alliance with Cabel, in an effort to save him, as I am Raven?

The elevator doors open to a large black room, accented with the color red. Around it are courses for running and climbing, screens to test your knowledge of plants and animals, and dummies to practice weaponry on. Assistants are everywhere, ready to attend to us tributes in whatever way they can. But the thing that I notice last, and that my eyes linger on longest is the balcony where the Gamemakers in their scarlet robes sit, eating, and watching the entering tributes closely. One meets my eyes for a split second, and I lower my own in embarrassment.

Blight nudges me. "I'll see you after training," he tells me and Raven, as we exit. We both nod simultaneously, and the elevator doors close again, taking Blight and Flame back to their respective floors. I turn around, ignoring Cabel and Scarlett, and looking for Maze and October. After a few moments, I find them standing near a station filled with crossbows. I point them out to Raven, and we walk hurriedly away from the District 5 tributes and through throngs of other tributes to reach our allies. We pass very close to Tide, who turns and gives us an admirable smirk, which I return without hesitation, continuing to walk.

When we reach the District 11 tributes, Maze smiles slightly. "Hello, Raven. Hello, Fawn." She seems to be deflated from the state she was last night. Maybe, like me, she hadn't thought this alliance through before being so friendly. Or maybe she didn't sleep well. Regardless, I return her smile and say hello to her and October, Raven following suit.

"Have you thought about what you want to do today?" October asks us, though the question is truly directed to me. We have all grown accustomed to Raven's silence, and have agreed without discussion that I will speak for the both of us.

I nod. "We are supposed to learn new things today," I tell him. "The lists are different between the two of us, so we'll have to split up at some point. What about you?"

October and Maze glance at each other. Maze shrugs. "Seeder and Chaff said to do whatever you wanted to. We'll just tag along for the day, if that's all right." I am positive that she is rethinking the idea of this alliance, now. Are her mentors also insistent upon its benefits?

I smile regardless. "That's just fine."

As October is opening his mouth to respond, Atala, the Capitol woman in charge of the Training Sessions, calls us all to order. We form two circles around her in a crescent moon shape, watching her carefully. Atala is known for her sharp anger, and she knows how to wield weapons better than Victors. "In a few weeks, twenty-three of you will be dead," she informs us. "One of you will be alive. Who that is depends on how well you pay attention over the next three days. Pay attention particularly to what I am about to say. First, no fighting with the other tributes." Sounding almost amused, she adds, "You'll have plenty of time for that in the arena. There are four compulsory exercises, two of which will occur today, two tomorrow, upon arrival, and after lunch. The rest will be individual training. My own advice is: don't ignore the survival skills. Everybody wants to grab a sword, but most of you will die from natural causes - 10% from infection, 20% from dehydration. Exposure can kill as easily as a knife."

Atala provides a small moment of complete silence for this to sink in. My eyes wander around the group, picking out the most dangerous ones. My eyes find the Careers at once, tapping their toes and looking bored. Luster is eyeing a sword like he can't wait to get his hands on it. My eyes fall on Ryder Wheel from District 6. His eyes are calm and collected, which gives me a sense of danger as strong as Luster's. Rye Brown's jaw is clenched with a determination that is also dangerous. Grant Farmer from District 10 looks like he is hanging on Atala's every word.

We are lined up in a seemingly random order, announced by Atala, which puts me beside Pixel Flash from District 3 and Grant Farmer. Atala explains the purpose of this excercise clearly. We are lined before a winding track, she says, which consists of three stages, which will be tackled one by one. The first is based on speed - to see how fast you can run. The second is covered with obstacles that you must manuever your way over or under. The last stage is a pool of water to see how fast we can swim.

Everyone watches with interest as Shyne Luxor, from District 1 and first in line, steps forward. She crouches in front of the line, ready to sprint when Atala gives the word. I notice, out of the corner of my eye, that even the Gamemakers look on with interest. There is a shrill sound, and Shyne is sprinting across the track. As she crosses the other line, the shrill sound fills the room again, and Shyne slows to a stop. Narrowing my eyes, I guess how long the distance was - maybe four hundred meters? Shyne did well, but I think that I can do better. I reach down a stretch my legs, anxious to impress Atala and the Gamemakers.

Barley Harvester, from District 10, is one of the younger tributes at fourteen years old. He looks nervous as he crouches down in a bad imitation of Shyne. When the shrill noise sounds, he hesitates for precious seconds before taking off. He doesn't run too badly, but he either hasn't had much practice or is very nervous, because he finishes in a time significantly longer than Shyne's. After him, Cotton Flinch from District 9 steps forward. Only thirteen, no one is surprised when she trips halfway through the course and finishes long after Barley's time.

I begin to concentrate on stretching instead of watching all of the sprints. I stop and look up, however, when it is October's turn. Unlike Barley and Cotton, he obviously knows what he is doing from the start. His acceleration is immediate, and he blurs towards the other line, finishing a full ten seconds before Shyne did. The Career notes this, sending October a scathing look, but I smile at him.

I only half watch as Rye Brown finishes in five seconds less than Shyne, and as Mason Flint finishes somewhere between them. Cabel Atom follows, his time better than Cotton's. Tide Playa goes next, and matches Shyne's time. After Tide is Pixel, who is directly in front of me. She does almost as badly as the young tributes.

Taking a deep breath, I ball my hands into fists and bend my knees. The moment that I hear the ear-splitting noise, I am gone, rushing through my own self-made wind. About three seconds in, I have reached my full speed and am pumping my arms to speed myself up. I cross the line, still at a sprint, and it takes about twenty meters to stop. I spin around, jogging back towards October with a slight smile on my face - I have missed the physical excercise. October lifts his hand to mine, giving me a high five, and points to the screen above the Gamemaker's balcony, showing all of our times. I was just one second faster than him - I am the fastest yet.

It is hard to ignore the Gamemaker's eyes upon me and October. We have the lowest times, for the moment, anyway. I blush, and give October a smile. He smiles back at me, and whispers, "We've really annoyed Tide and Shyne." I don't dare look over at them, but I can image the glares that I am receiving. The though makes me smile wider.

Grant Farmer makes good time, and Luster Diamond steps up next, looking determined to beat my time. However, he falls a few seconds shorter than Shyne's, and I don't miss the glare I receive from him. Gneiss Mount and Mason Flint also finish after Shyne's time, and I know that I am a marked target now. This worries me, but I push away the thought. Maze runs in an admirable time, which October and I congratulate her on in low voices. Raven follows not long after, not doing as badly as I'd feared. Syren is the last runner, and finishes with a time better than Shyne's, but still larger than October and my own.

We line up again, and this time I am the first, with Jet Rails behind me. I glance ahead of myself at the large boulders, fallen trees, and holes littering the path that I am to run on. I search for disguised rabbit holes, and, sure enough, find some. I ready myself again, arms extended and ready to lift me over the first tree. The shrill whistle sounds, and I sprint towards the tree, lifting myself over it without difficulty. I dart around a boulder and jump over the next branch. I pump my arms for speed again as I avoid a rabbit hole, and hoist myself over another tree. This really isn't very difficult, compared to back home, where you can slip on patches of ice if you aren't careful. I cross the line, jogging back to it and glancing at my time.

Jet Rails doesn't do badly, though she is about thirty seconds short of my time. Her chin raised proudly, she returns to the line and crosses her arms. Chip Drive does very badly - falling several times throughout the course. Scarlett proves herself quick-minded by navigating the course out of speed instead of strength. Mason Flint uses his strength to propel him over whatever is in the way, but neither of them touch my time. Thread Coil falls onto his head, and lies on the ground, stunned, for a moment, before jogging the rest of the course through. Angela Herder, 13 years old, has to maneuver around all of the branches, because she is too small to hoist herself over them. Gneiss finishes at the same time as Mason, and Tide and Shyne's times are similar. Syren's time was shorter than the rest of the Career's this time, but still very high. Luster had the highest Career score in this section.

Raven performs admirably on this course, using his strength to his advantage. Maze doesn't do too badly, either, and appears pleased when she stops beside me. October, second to last, disappoints when he falls into a well-disguised rabbit hole. He doesn't hurt himself, however, and manages to finish the course in the same time that Raven did. No one can beat my own time in this section, either, and I know that the Gamemakers are watching me for sure now.

In the last course, with the pool of water, Tide Playa has the best time, with Syren only .067 of a second behind him. Hestia Flamel finishes right behind them, to everyone's shock. Where could she have learned to swim in District 12? Her partner, Cole Miner, does horribly, wading around the edge where he can touch. Most of the tributes have to do this, as they are scared to drown. Raven sprints around the edge, finishing well, and looking exhausted. Maze swims through the middle, and finishes just short of Raven's time. October is just behind them, he too having waded around the edge.

I am the last in line this time, and have decided to swim through the middle. I watch Syren and Tide swimming, and am determined to use this to my advantage. I won't finish first in this one, but I could still place well overall. I stand at the edge of the pool, waiting for the shrill noise. When it sounds, I launch myself into the water, allowing myself to sink under like Syren and Tide had, and kicking my legs, using my arms, and praying that I wouldn't drown. I could hear the shrill noise from under the water, and quickly swam to the surface, coughing up water as I surfaced.

Maze helps me out of the pool, slapping my back to help me cough up more water. When my eyes are focused, I see that she looks excited. "You got fourth, after Tide, Syren, and Hestia!" she tells me in an jubilent whisper as she leads me towards the warm fans that are drying out the tributes almost instantly, and untangling their hair. "You got first place overall!"

I beam, and whisper to her, "What about October, Raven, and you?" Water is still flowing from me face and hair, and I can't make out the screen above the Gamemaker's balcony.

"October was the best of us, after you," she tells me, keeping her voice low as she turns on a fan for me. "He got eight, after all the Careers and you. I," she straightens her back proudly, "was in thirteenth, and Raven got sixteenth." The warm air blasted over me, and I let out a cry of surprise as the water was evaporated off of me, the warm air surrounding me and untangling my hair. The moment that it's job is done, I lurch forward and turn off the air, nearly choking again from holding my breath.

I ignore Maze's raised eyebrow. "Good job," I tell her, glancing around for October and Raven, and looking to the scoreboard. Following the Careers, October, and my own names and pictures are Grant Farmer, Rye Brown, Scarlett Wires, and Thread Coil. Maze's face smiles next. After that are Ryder Wheel, Jet Rails, and Raven. And following my lowest ranked ally is Cole Miner, Hestia Flamel, Pixel Flash, Angela Herder, Chip Driver, Cabel Atom, and Barely Harvester. I allow a small smile to creep onto my face. I still see Gamemakers looking in my direction, speaking to each other in low voices.

"Good job, Fawn!" I feel a friendly pat on the back, and turn to see October smiling at me.

I smile back. "You did great, too. You would've been right up there with me, too, if it weren't for that silly rabbit hole..." October's face falls at the mention and he shrugs it off. Suddenly, I feel bad for mentioning his mistake, and quickly say, "but your sprinting is amazing."

October breaks a small smile as Atala calls us back to our two crescent moons around her. "You all did admirably on the exercises today, and," her eyes fell on the Careers for a moment, "do not worry - you will have another chance to prove yourself after lunch today. A reminder: sparring with other tributes is strictly forbidden." I notice that there are Peacekeepers stationed throughout the room, ready to break up any fights between us tributes. Just seeing them gives me a sick feeling, reminding me where I am. I firm my jaw and look away, joining my allies as Atala dismisses us to individual training.

"I want to try the running course again," Raven tells us, his face set in determination. "I can meet up with you later."

October shakes his head. "I'll go with you," he offers. "I want to try the second stage again. I don't want to die because of a rabbit hole." I agree - that would be a stupid way to die, being chased by Careers, and caught in a hole. Maze looks to me, silently wondering if I want to do the course again. Honestly, I do want to run again, just for the pure exhilaration of it, but Blight wanted me to learn something new today.

"I'm going to go and try to use a bow," I tell my allies. "Blight says that it's good to be well rounded, so I figured that it couldn't hurt..."

Maze nods in agreement. "It will probably help," she agrees. "Who knows - there might only be bows in the arena!" I chuckle at this, because it is highly unlikely, but Maze seems to have been serious. "I'll come with you," she offers. I nod in agreement, and we agree to meet the boys before lunch.

I glance at Maze's dark face and study her for a moment. She's fairly tall, and well muscled. I'm imagine that she's a good climber from the way that she holds herself. She has kind dark eyes, and when I consider her voice, I think that she must be a singer. "So, Maze," I say conversationally as we stroll across the Training Center, "Do you have any family back home?"

She glances at me for a moment, before nodding. Her voice sounds surprisingly normal as she speaks. "My mother recently died in childbirth, and my father has been dead for two years. I have six younger siblings - four sisters, and three brothers. I ... I'd do anything for them. We live with my grandmother now, but she's old and doesn't remember much anymore - on good days, she'll remember who we are. On bad days ... well, she can't work on bad days." I nod slightly, not wanting to speak and stop Maze from sharing. "I take care of my siblings as best I can - little Colwort is only a year old, and he has to stay home with Grandmother. The other boys, Cress and Flax, are the next youngest, only four and five. They work in the fields, though, running messages from Peacekeepers to the workers." Her eyes are blank, as though remembering home. "My youngest sister is Ambrosia, and she's six years old. She's the shyest, cutest kid on the Earth. Then there's the twins - Fern and Sorrel. They're eight, and they never leave each other's sides. Fern is the baby of the two, and Sorrel will do whatever she can to keep Fern from getting hurt or worried. And then there's Rue. She's eight years old, and she has the prettiest singing voice in the world." With a blush, she admits, "I taught her everything she knows."

I smile at Maze. "I thought that you were a singer."

"How did you know?" she asks. We are nearing the boy station, but I slow our pace, reluctant to stop this conversation.

I shrug in response to her question. "It was something in your voice. Are there Entertainers in District 11?" I can tell immediately from her expression that there are not. "They're people with musical talents that sing songs, play music, and tell stories to their town. In payment, their town gives them the food and clothes they need to survive." I look down, slightly embarrassed as I add, "I was an Entertainer's apprentice." The word 'was' sounds particularly ominous.

Maze's eyes are shining with jealousy. "You have a choice as to what you do in District 7?"

Blushing, I shrug again. "In the moving towns that cut down the wood, sort of. In the wood processing factories, where Raven lives, the only choice you have is who you live and work with. But I live in Sawdust, where we are all lumberjacks. When we are of Reaping age, though, we qualify to be Scouts. I'm in the Crescent Moon Troop, and we search out the areas the Sawdust is about to move to, and to cut back the forest. It's a dangerous job, and we come with life-or-death confrontations on a daily business. But being an Entertainer is kind of looked down upon, since it is such an easy living."

Maze looks more jealous than ever. "And you would've spent your whole live making music for people?" I nod, and she gives me a sour look. "In District 11, we all work in the fields, which are guarded by Peacekeepers. The Peacekeepers assign us our jobs in the fields, and we don't have any say on whether we work in the day or the night." She pauses before changing the subject hurriedly. "What about your family?"

"My father died years ago in a forest fire," I tell her, trying to keep my tone light. "My mother runs the house, and I have two younger sisters - Aria and Creta. Aria acts so old now - she's twelve, and she'll probably join the Crescent Moon Troop soon. Creta's very sweet, and she loves carving little figurines in her spare time. And River Arbre, from another moving town, is courting me." I'm blushing. "He's a Scout, too."

Maze smiles at me, her jealousy still obvious. "That's sounds really nice." She motions to the bows, and I nod. We step towards the racks, admiring the many bows of all sizes. The trainer approached us with a greeting, and points out a bow for each of us quickly. I take the small, black bow in my hands and stretch out the string, testing it. The trainer shows me how to hold it and place an arrow on it.

I stand beside Maze, facing the targets, only about five feet away. Placing the arrow on the string, I draw it up to my shoulder slowly, methodically, as the trainer instructs Maze on how to hold her fingers. Taking a deep breath, I let go of the string. The arrow whizzes just over the target, sticking to the wall behind it. Disappointed, I reach for a new arrow, putting it back on the bow. "Take your time," the trainer suggests. "concentrate on where you want it to go."

Adjusting my stance so that my legs are farther apart, I take another deep breath and raise the bow. I stare at the target, my eyes finding the red center or it. I stare at it, let a breath out, and allow the arrow to slip from my fingers. It darts towards the target, landing directly in the middle.

I let out a little gasp of surprise, excitement flooding through me. I grab another arrow, and repeat the process. The arrow lands right of the target, but my hand is already reaching for another arrow. The next arrow I loose meets the other in the center, as does the one after that. Beaming, I turn to watch Maze, who has hit one into the center and is struggling to do so again. The trainer catches my eye and congratulates me on my progress, removing my arrows and moving the target backwards.

Eager for a challenge, I take my stance and loose another arrow. It is far from the target, but the next catches the edge. I'm learning quickly that trial and error will help me figure out how to do this. My next three also land out. frustrated, I glance over at Maze to find that she's having as much trouble as I am with the far away targets. The trainer tells us, "Don't get frustrated. It can take time to learn." After several more minutes of shooting, Maze and I both manage to hit the center of the targets, to our great delight.

The trainer replaces the circular targets with human dummies, marked red in the spots where vital organs are. We are to aim at those spots. Feeling slightly sick, I take my stance before the dummy, and practice aiming at the various spots - the heart, the hand, the stomach, the knee, and the temple. Once Maze and I have mastered this technique from various distances, we have been at the station for over two hours. The trainer, appearing pleased with our progress, presses a button that makes the dummies run back and forth, and instructs us to shoot them now. "You'll very rarely have a still target," he reminds us.

Bearing this in mind, I stand before the dummies, take a deep breath, and shoot. My arrow misses by feet. Gritting my teeth, I grab another arrow, and let it loose quicker this time. It spirals out of control, around the bow station. I grab another one, firing again and again until, finally, one of my arrows catches one of the dummies' elbows. Maze has already managed to pierce the heart of one, and, encouraged, I begin firing again and again until I can hit them fairly well. When I make contact with one's temple, I shudder, trying not to think about that dummy as a real tribute.

Thanking the trainer, Maze and I leave the bow station, heading towards the edible plants station, where we spotted October's orange head. Sure enough, Raven and October are at the station, and smile at us in greeting. Raven is standing before a small screen projected onto a bigger screen before him. "He's picking out the edible plants," October explains as Raven touches one hesitantly, and it disappears from the screen. October directs Maze and I to a table on which tons of plant models sit, labeled underneath with their names and their benefits, typically, POISONOUS.

Maze's face breaks into a small smile as she studies the plants. Of course, being from District 12, she is probably well accustomed to many of these. Her hands run over the plants, lingering on the Ferns, the Sorrel, and other various plants that her siblings are named after. I begin studying them all, trying to give Maze her space to remember her family.

Raven walks back over to study the plants again, pointing out a few to me in a low voice that he forgot. I nod, thankful for his help. The trainer is standing beside October, watching his progress with great satisfaction. "Wonderful," I hear him say to October. "Only two wrong ... quite good!"

Maze looks up, and sees that October is done. She walks over to take his place by the screen, her fingers choosing the different pictures of plants at iconic speed, her fingers flying across the keyboard. I can't help it - I abandon the table with the models to join her, staring at the screen as the pictures disappear. When she is done, the trainer proclaims it a perfect performance, and Maze beams.

I step forward as the screen scrambles the plants, and take a deep breath. I choose my first edible plant quickly - wild potatoes are common in District 7, as well as radishes and carrots. I find the corn, or maze, and the sorrel, fern, and so on. My hand lingers over the nightlock berry, and I shudder, remembering its fast-acting poison. After finishing about half of the icons, I stop, not remembering any more. The trainer tells me that I did not do badly for a first time, and I smile and thank him.

We leave the edible plants station for the camouflage station. It is edible from the start that none of us are particularly gifted in this aspect, but we spend about forty minutes mixing mud and leaves together. I am satisfied with the way I managed to camouflage a shirt to blend into a forest landscape, and can make a considerable camouflage for a snowy area like District 7 as well.

The shrill sound echoes around the Training Center again, and all the tributes stop what they are doing. I notice an open space in the wall - a doorway - that wasn't there moments ago. Atala's loud voice announces, "Put down your weapons! It is time to eat!" She motions to the doorway, indicating that the food was through it. Then she joins the Gamemakers atop their balcony, glancing at the tributes below and talking to each other.

I glance at October, Maze, and Raven, wiggling my still-camoflauged fingers at them. Maze makes to tickle me with her own, and I dart away with something like a giggle. The trainer motions us to something like a sink. We rinse our fingers in the cool water, and I leave my hands in them for longer than is necessary, relishing the coolness upon my skin. How I miss District 7.

**~~BTCS~~**

_What? Rue ... is Maze's ... WHAT IS GOING ON? That, my friend, is a very good question. Hahaha... I love my fun twists. You are so shocked that you must review now! __Hmm ... what do you think of my version of the training center? Fawn's pretty awesome - she has that natural aptitude to weapons that should scare you. I based a lot of this off the movie, not much on the book, because I felt like there was more to elaborate off of in the movie rather than the book. I used Atala's speech word for word. In the book, was there any mention of compulsory exercises? I don't remember ... oh, well, I decided that would be fun to work with._

_Oh, in book 2, Katniss said that there was no swimming pool in the Training Center. That's stupid. I never understood why not. So, in BTCS, just assume that there is one. Sorry if this bothers you, but that's just what makes sense to me._


	10. II ALLIES

**PART II. PREPARING.  
CHAPTER 10. ALLIES.**

_The names of the tributes are fairly easy to track to their districts. For instance, Cabel and Pixel. District 3. Maze and October. District 11. Syren and Tide. District 4. And so on. That information should come in handy this chapter, if you hadn't already picked up on that. There's a couple of first names that don't go with districts, and only their last names fit. The tributes are Scarlett Wires, District 6, and Angela Herder and Grant Farmer from District 10. So, there's that skill._

_Um ... I think I mentioned in an author's note last chapter that Fawn is really good at picking up skills with weapons. That's true. She's not really your typical meek non-Career tribute girl. Sorry everyone that thinks she should be. She's not. You'll see more of that side of her in here, as well as some of her weak points because ... well, she is human._

_What does everyone think of the tributes? I want you to remember something significant about most, if not all of them. So pay attention to the tidbits about non-Career tributes and non-Fawn's-allies tributes. Most of them _will _end up mattering. Anyone have favorite tributes?_

**~BTCS~**

October glances up from his plate of food at Raven, looking curious. "What is home for you, Raven?" I dare glance at Raven, curious despite myself, because Raven and I have never spoken about home.

Raven sucks in a deep breath, not looking up from his food, poking about the vibrant material with him fork. "Home ..." his voice dies slightly as he says the word. "Ah ... Well, what do you want to know? My family?" He coughs slightly, and I suspect that he is disguising a sob. "Well, my mother is dead - has been for a few years now. Ah, my grandfather is deafened from the sound of the wood processing machines. I have three siblings - triplets. My brother, Rowan, is the oldest. Just like me, Dad used to say ... Hazal is next, and is the kindest person you'd ever meet. And Dara," he chuckles slightly, though still appearing solemn. "is very competitive, and gets in fights a lot. She's our family's warrior." I recall that in the reaping, one girl had fallen into the arms of another when Raven had been reaped. Had this been Hazal and Dara? Raven glances up from his food towards October. "What about you?"

"I'm an orphan," October says, very bluntly. "Nobody likes me much, except for Maze here." He smiles at his district partner, and I look at them, puzzled. Did they know each other before the Games? Not from the Orphanage, that's for sure - Maze has a large family.

Catching my quizzical look, Maze explains, "October and I met in the fields. He comes by to help me with the kids after work every day." She gives him a fond look, and I wonder if there is any romance between the two.

October shrugs off her look. "The Fields family is the closest thing I have to a family," he tells his food. "I owe them a lot." He gives a timid smile to Maze, who beams back.

Silence fills our table like thick ice for a moment, until I break it. "What do you think that the next compulsory exercise will be?" I preformed well on the last one, and I don't want to disappoint my allies, the Gamemakes, or myself with my next performance.

Maze shrugs in response, "It's hard to guess," she says, tugging on the end of her pleated hair. "They never show the exercises on the updates at home." Her reminder of the updates hits home. Suddenly, I'm glancing around for cameras. Somewhere, right now, my family and River are watching me, perhaps what I am doing right now.

"I'd imagine that it has something to do with climbing," Raven offers, and I look in surprise at my ally, offering his opinion without prompting.

October, too, seems interested, considering Raven carefully. "What makes you say that?"

Raven shrugs, appearing embarrassed and returning to his food. "I don't know. Just a feeling, I guess." He pauses, as though waiting for us to pick up the conversation from this point. "Well, they had us run, but they haven't seen us try to climb yet, and there's typically something that we have to climb over in the Games. I mean, running will only take you so far."

I consider his words for a moment, and find myself nodding. This rings true with all of my experiences in the forest scouting. I remember how Trew and Kri were chased by coyotes the last time we scouted. They had run as well, but ended up climbing a tree for safety, perching in its branches for hours. "You're probably right," I say. "If not today, then surely sometimes. Climbing saved the members of my troop several times."

October glances up at Maze with a small smile. "Climbing will be fun."

Maze beams back at him. "October and I both work in the orchards," she tells Raven and I. "we climb around the trees constantly - like the monkeys that are sometimes on the Games." I shudder as I think of some of the monkeys, with the venomous bites, that sometimes appear on the screens in Redwood's square.

"You'll have lots of climbing practice, too," Raven tells me, appearing deflated, counting himself the weakest of our alliance. "climbing around the wilderness and the mountains as you do."

I think back to Branchball and smile slightly, nodding. Climbing is definitely one of my strongest points. I do notice Raven's depleted look, however, and tell him, "Your strength is still important, though, Raven. I don't have anything on you, there." He nods, not appearing convinced, but I hope that he will listen anyway.

**~~BTCS~~**

I am standing in line before a giant rock wall course, marveling at Raven's aptitude for guessing this. October is standing in line right beside me, eyes narrowed in concentration as Atala speaks. I redirect my attention back to her, embarrassed. "This exercise will be in only one stage," she announces. "and will again be based upon the time taken to complete the exercise. First," she motions to the rock wall, "you will climb up a standard, mountain-like wall, followed by another standard climb downwards on the other side."

Nodding slightly to myself, I examine that wall, picking out the best places for hand- and foot-holds easily. Both sides are visible from the point our line is, and the Gamemakers' balcony is opposite us. They are finishing their food, and watching us with great interest. More than a few eyes rest on October and I, as we did so well on the last exercise. Doubtlessly, they are expecting great things from us.

First up is Rye Brown. District 9 is surely as flat as the floor I am standing on, but she climbs in surprising quickness. I watch her finish the ascent, and climb downwards, being more careful this way. I can't help but chuckle slightly to myself - when I first climbed, downwards seemed scarier to me, too. But it's really much easier, once you get the hang of it. I glance up at the scoreboard, showing the score for this exercise as well as the last, and find Rye's ranking. She was 10th, after myself, the Careers, October, and Grant Farmer from District 10. As the shrill noise sounds, Rye lets a triumphant snarl come over her face, and stands slightly to the side, looking proud of herself.

"She's a threat," whispers October. I shudder at the word 'threat.' This girl might take my life. "I don't think that she'll go down without a fight." I murmur an agreement, studying Rye's tough, dark face with interest. What's her story? Who is at home waiting for her?

I force my attention back to the rock wall, which Barley Harvester, Rye's district partner, is now attempting to scale. He falls several times, saved by the wires attached to him, and has to scramble for a handhold. His final time is dismal - minutes after his partner's. Rye sneers at Barley, and he shivers with fear. A great well of dislike rises in my throat, and I have to remind myself that I don't care for Barley, and I shouldn't care how Rye treats him. All the same, my hands curl into fists at my side.

Maze is next, and she climbs so fast that she's just a brown-and-black streak in my eyes. She descends without hesitation, and finishes two minutes earlier than Rye did. Maze beams at me and October, ignoring Rye's scathing look. I lean over to whisper to Raven, "She's better than I am. Can you climb like that, too?"

Looking embarrassed, he replies, "Something like that. Maze is better than me, though, at bigger heights. I start to feel kind of ... funny." He ends abruptly, his hands on his stomach and I realize that he has a fear of heights. Not wanting to embarrass him when our strengths and weaknesses matter most, I let the conversation fall, watching Chip Drive struggle to remain on the wall.

Mason Flint doesn't do badly - he finishes just quicker than Rye, but his score looks dismal compared to Maze's. Scarlett Wires score was just larger than Rye's. Shyne beats Rye and Mason, taking second place, and Tide finishes just slower than her. Cotton Flinch takes more time than Barley, who looks relieved that he is no longer in last.

October goes next. I agree that he isn't as quick as Maze, but he is still a flash of orange hair against gray stone. He finishes only a few seconds behind Maze, and joins her in second place. I see them give each other some kind of friendly shake, obviously a tradition from District 11.

I step up, taking deep breaths, and allow the trainers to attach wires to me in case I, like Cotton and Barley, fall. I know that I don't need the help. When the shrill noise sounds, I shoot up the wall, not nearly as fast as Maze and October, but maybe faster than Shyne and Tide. When I'm at the top, I don't hesitate; I am quickly down the other side, and using gravity to my advantage. The moment that me feet hit the ground, the shrill noise sounds, and I bounce on the balls of my feet a few times to kill the momentum and adrenaline.

The moment that I register a change in the screen out of the corner of my eye, I spin to face it. My name is listed just below Shyne, Maze, and October's. Fourth fastest... Yes! I run towards Maze and October, laughing in relief, and give October a huge hug. He laughs as well, and pats my back. When I break away from October, Maze embraces me, too, whispering, "Good job, Fawn! Good job!" I break away, and make an effort to conceal my excitement, having already attracted enough attention. Raven gives me a wide smile, which I return.

In my excitement, I nearly miss Grant Farmer climbing. He does much worse at this than he did running, scoring between Scarlett and Barley. Hestia Flamel, from District 12, surprised everyone with her swimming skill. However, in this particular exercise, she sets out with determination on her face, and finishes, panting, after Grant's time.

Ryder Wheel, appearing cool and calm, follows, and scores above Grant. Thread Coil, after him, scores just below. When the two are done, they grin and mutter at each other. I nudge my allies, nodding towards the two. "Do you think that they have formed an alliance?"

Maze studies the two carefully. "It looks like it," she tells me, eyes wide. "So ... we aren't the only alliance." She's right - the only alliances that I have observed are those of the Careers's, and our own. The development of another alliance is interesting. I study the two tributes - they were both very quiet, and I hadn't taken much notice of them before this moment.

I glance towards Chip Drive as he mounts the wall, falling once on his hasty way down. He finishes sometime after Hestia. Chip's district partner, Pixel, finishes just before Barley, and I notice that the two tributes from District 3 avoid each other. There is no alliance between them. Syren Seeh mounts the rocks, climbing at exhilarating speed, and I can feel my adrenaline picking up, just by watching her. She finishes a mere second before I did, and I let out a sigh of disappointment as Syren's sneer is shot towards me.

"It's all right, Fawn," October whispers. "She's a Career, remember? She's been training for _years _... the Gamemakers won't hold this against you too badly." He's right - maybe they will not see a difference between fourth and fifth. But I will. I'm gritting my teeth as Raven mounts the wall. His movements are slow, but certain, and his strength helps him slip over the rocks with ease. His time lies between Scarlett and Ryder. When he approaches us, I am sure to exaggerate his performance, and he beams with embarrassment when I am done.

Jet Rails follows him, scoring just above her district partner, Ryder Wheel. After her, Luster Diamond mounts the wall, and scores the lowest of all the Careers so far; just behind Mason. He appears angry as he joins the Career pack, shooting glares towards everyone that dares glance at him. He appears gladdened, however, when Angela Herder scores third to last, above Chip and below Hestia.

Cole Miner is next, scoring below Scarlett, and I glance at the District 12 tribute with surprise. Where did he learn to climb well enough to score 10th? "The District 12 tributes are full of surprises this year," I whisper to Raven, who nods in agreement, studying the two, standing far apart, and looking thoughtful. I wonder if he will manage to figure out why they have such odd abilities for District 12 tributes, just as he did the exercise.

Cabel Atom scores very badly, behind Angela and taking her place as third to last. Shoulders sagging, he glances towards his district partner, Scarlett, who was avoiding his gaze. Gneiss Mount, smirking with relish, climbed very quickly - of course, she would have climbed in the mountains surrounding District 2 for training. She scores above Tide, taking the closest spot behind me.

Atala calls us back to our two crescent moons about her, and she announces that the afternoon session of personal training has begun. She repeats the rules, and I glance towards the Gamemakers, who are looking at October, Maze, Raven, and I with interest. I give a slight smile. We have their attention as much as the Careers do now.

Once Atala is done speaking, Maze says, "I want to try to use a sword." I nod in agreement, as does October and Raven, and we set off to the station. The trainer greets us curtly, and examines us carefully, and gives us each swords one by one, muttering to himself. Raven recieves a long, flat sword, holding it as though it was very heavy. October's is shorter, and lighter, but longer in width. Maze's is short enough to be mistaken for a dagger, and shines like fire. My own is assigned last, and even I can tell that it is an unusual sword - the blade is long and triangularly shaped, and light as a feather.

The trainer places us all in a circle around him, and shows us how to hold the blades and swipe them. Raven catches on quickly, grinning as the movements naturally emerged from his body. I catch on nearly as quickly, but October seems to have a hard time figuring out the movements. The trainer stands us each in front of dummies, and has us practice making contact with all of their vital points.

After several moments, I become aware that we are not the only tributes at the sword station. The Career pack has entered after us, and are currently dueling with several trainers. I stop aiming at the vital points of a dummy, turn, and watch as Luster takes on a trainer with his stocky sword. My eyes flash from Luster's feet to his sword to his grip on its handle. The trainer had his eyes narrowed in concentration, obviously having a hard time sparring with Luster. The other Careers cheer on Luster as he manages, with a twirling sort of flick from his sword, to disarm his opponent.

"Wow," Maze says under her breath. She, too, has turned around to watch. Suddenly, seeing this expertise display of why I should be terrified, I return to the dummy with newfound vigor, until the dummy falls over, its knee completely severed. The trainer turns to me, and directs me to one of the sparring trainers, with his sword at the ready.

I flick my wrist a few times, memorizing how light the metal is, and how easily it moves with me. Then I step up to face the trainer, feeling the Careers' eyes upon me. She moves slowly, deliberately, knowing that I am a beginner, and content to test how much I know. I use my sword to meet hers, my movements sharper than hers. I push my sword forward, towards her chest, but she avoids my strike with a mere step backwards. Clenching my jaw, I attempt to persue her, jabbing towards her arm. She parries easily, and makes an attack of her own. Clumsily, I smack my sword against hers, which works effectively enough, but leaves my hand stinging from the impact. Slowly, the woman repeats the movement, and I block more gently this time, careful to be firm, however, so that both swords will not fly into me.

I am conscious that Syren is now sparring with the trainer assigned to the Careers. Maze, October, and Raven are also sparring nearby. The Careers, excluding Syren, have fixed me with curious and not unfriendly looks that I can feel burning into me. I try to concentrate on when the trainer is teaching me, but it is hard with so many other things to pay attention to. Finally, our speed quickens, and I am blocking her sword and parrying her thrusts at light-speed. Eyes narrowed, I can judge her movements before they happen, if I concentrate. She is not fighting with skill enough to best any of the Careers, and overcomes me in the end, but I am surprised and satisfied of the progress I made.

Eager to leave the eyes of the watchful Careers, I convey my willingness to move on to my allies. They agree, and the trainer that I sparred with offers one last bit of knowledge before I leave. "If you want to end a fight quickly," she tells me. "Render their hands incapable. They can't fight without them. And," she looks thoughtful. "they can't run without legs and feet." I give her a nod, trying not to think about the situation where I might need this information, and leave the station, not looking back as the Careers gaze at me.

October has noticed their watchful eyes. "You've caught their attention, haven't you?" I nod as we move to the Spears Station, not commenting. Silently, I note Raven's worried look, and Maze's stubborn one. Careers have been known to offer strong tributes an invitation to their alliance. Normally, this alliance does not end well for the tributes having been sought out by the Careers. Once there are only ten tributes, the non-traditional Career is killed by their allies. Later, the tribute pack breaks, and kills each other. But the tribute from District 3, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, or 12 is always killed first. If the Careers approach me, I will decline their offer. They will probably mark me as a target, but I feel safer with Raven, October, and Maze than I could with them.

Scarlett Wires is already at the Spears Station. My initial observation of her proves correct - she catches onto the basic concept quickly, and applies it in clever manners that would outwit even a Career. We don't do badly at this station, though October's best weapon has been the sword, and Maze's the bow. Raven did better with the sword than he did here, but I still believe that hand-to-hand combat will be his strength. As for me, I am accustomed to throwing knives, and making them spin in the air. Spears are incapable of this technique, and at first, I lag the farthest behind at this station. However, once I become accustomed to their heavier weight, and their longer span, I aceel here as well.

When I turn to grab another spear to aim at the moving targets, I notice that Scarlett has disappeared, and the Careers have materialized in her place. Trying to appear unfazed, I trun and throw the spear directly into the forehead of a dummy. Then I glance at Maze, who has a certain fear in her eyes that I haven't seen before, and mouths, 'Let's get out of here.' I nod, and nudge Raven. Trying to sound conversational, I tell him, "I've had enough of spears, haven't you? Let's move on." He nods, throwing his last spear, which misses by a meter, and falls to the ground. Gneiss Mount's snicker is audible, and Raven turns, aware of them for the first moment, and meeting the eye of Gneiss.

It is impossible to ignore them now. Maze and October are immediately by my side, arms folded and looking cold. I make to leave, but Shyne Luxor, a kind smile on her face, turns to me. "Hello! I'm Shyne Luxor, and it's very nice to meet you."

Remembering that this is all an act, that this is the Hunger Games, I take her extended hand and shake it, careful to keep my hand steady and firm. "Fawn Dogwood," I tell her, almost shortly. Shyne smiles at me, introducing me to each of her companions one by one. They all appear cheerful enough, even Tide and Syren, despite the way they treated me in the elevator. I, in turn, introduce my allies, who nod gruffly to the Careers.

"We were wondering," Tide smiles invitingly as he speaks the words, "if you might be interesting in joining the Career alliance." _The dog pack, you mean, _I think, but before I can reply, he is continuing, "We can provide a security in the arena that is unavailable elsewhere. Career tributes are rarely attacked, especially by mutts, you know." He is right - I have watched the Hunger Games all my life, and rarely are Career tributes attacked by mutts until they are in the bottom three. And, of course, he doesn't expect me to live that long.

"Career tributes live longer," Luster agrees. "because the sponsors look to us before any other tributes. If you join us, you will immediately have sponsors. This would never happen, otherwise." They haven't mentioned my allies behind me, yet. They could be speaking to us all as a whole. I glance at Maze's face, curious to see her reaction, and am startled by a venomous look. October and Raven's faces remain calm, and I hope that mine does, too.

Syren is looking at Maze as she speaks. "It is a great honor that we are extending you, you know. Not just any tribute gets the offer to join the Career alliance." Gneiss and Mason grunt in agreement. I immediately place them as the kinds of Careers that aren't much for talk. All six of the Careers' eyes are upon me, waiting for a response.

Hopefully, my face has been emotionless as they talked. I now allow confusion to seep onto my face. "Wait. Me? What about ..." I motion to my allies, completely ignorant.

The Careers glance at each other, and it is Tide that finally speaks. "The offer is only extended to Fawn Dogwood and October Harvest."

I glance at October, surprise on my face that I don't feel. Of course they want the two of us. We scored high on the compulsory exercises, and proved ourselves adept at using swords and spears. I am a bit surprised that they didn't ask Maze as well, though. Maybe three more allies is too many for them. As I stare at October, I address the Careers. "Um ... could we have a day to think about it? Until - until the end of training, maybe? Before the sessions with the Gamemakers?" I keep my voice higher than normal, innocent-sounding. October, eyes wide, nods his agreements to the Careers.

Shyne nods slowly in agreement, glancing around at her fellow Careers until they, too, agree. "You have until lunch on the third day of training," she tells October and I, and then they leave slowly, heading to the Wrestling station.

I turn to October at once, and whisper urgently, "We can't accept. They'd kill us so quickly, we wouldn't know what happened."

October nods in agreement. "I'd rather cast my luck alone in a snake-infested tree," he tells me, turning to slap Maze's back affectionately. "Don't worry," he tells her. "We wouldn't leave you that easily." Maze doesn't appear convinced, however, eyes still narrowed towards the Careers. With her black hair back, arms folded, and looking positively evil, I find myself thinking that Maze could win the Hunger Games. She looks like a victor, the way that she is standing. However, her look deflates as she glances at October, smiling slightly.

"You'd better not," she says. "How about we try something different? Insect recognigation, maybe?" She points to a station close by, where models of bugs sit, with a gigantic screen nearby. We agree, and approach the station. The trainer greets us, and explains the purpose of the station. It is set up in the exact same format that the plants station was, and soon my allies and I are studying the many insects. Maze and October recognize many of them, and explain some of them to Raven and I.

"I suppose there's not many bugs in District 7, are there?" October asks, looking interested. I reply, "None." I can't deny that I don't like the look of the small creatures that I have never come in contact with. District 7 is too cold, and the Capitol too clean for the opportunity to arise. They appear delicate and small, but the pinchers on some of them say otherwise. When Maze explains that one spider's bite will kill, I cannot stop a shudder that brings teasing.

Maze and October do well on the insect test, and Raven does nearly as well as they do. I cannot remember many of the insects and their poisonous aspects, and am eager to leave the station. However, Raven insists upon trying the test again. I stand, biting my cheek and doing my best to ignore those disturbing models as Raven carefully retakes the test. He does much better, and I hurry the alliance away from the station.

We go to Hammock Making, a skill that I have little want of. Why make a hammock when you could sleep on the tree you're tying it to, or the ground beneath it? In the Hunger Games, the moment you wake up might be the moment you have to run for your life. You don't have time to untie the hammock and retrieve your things. You most definitely can't afford to loose the supplies. However, this is one of the few things that Raven does the best at, and he appears pleased as we move on.

Fishing is a skill that none of us have had the chance to attempt, and one that none of us are very good at. I practically snort with laughter as Maze falls into the pool of fish after attempting to rein in a particularly strong catch with the string that is serving as a fishing rod. Raven stabs his shoe with a spear instead of a fish, and I nearly trip onto my face as I chase a fish with my own spear. In the end, we all agree that we will not be fishing in the arena, but I am happy to think that we grew to trust each other a little in that time.

**~~BTCS~~**

After receiving a full account of the day of training, Blight looks older. "You did a good job learning," he tells Raven and I. "I am proud of you. And you bonded with Maze Fields and October Harvest?" We both nod, and I glance at Raven. I bonded with him too, and the very thought of another tribute threatening any of them makes a great well of protectiveness rise in my chest. "Good." Blight says. "Both of your tokens were cleared today." He motions to where my star-shaped carved necklace and a small carved raven sit on a side table. "Fawn, yours was thought to be sharp enough to become a throwing star, so it was filed down significantly..."

I pick up the necklace, noticing immediately that the edges are more rounded than they were before. I hardly notice, though, bringing it to my face and breathing in the sharp smell of pine needles and sticky sap. I sigh, my chest suddenly heavier than it was before. Homesickness wells up inside of me, and I glance at Raven. He is staring at the carved raven as though it will speak to him if he doesn't look away. He is my only part of home now - him and Blight.

Placing the necklace around my neck and letting my hands fall to my sides, I address Blight. "Do we have any obligations until dinner?"

My mentor shakes his head, and Raven glances up from the raven, lowering it slightly. "You may do what you like." I nod, and move to leave for my room, but Blight stops me. "If you would stay, Fawn, I'd like to speak with you." I stop abruptly, my lips forming a thin line as I give a sharp nod. Raven, looking surprised, enters his room. Blight and I watch until the door closes with a sharp click.

Blight immediately turns to me. "Are you thinking of accepting the offer of alliance from the Careers?"

My face twisting into an expression of disgust, I exclaim, "No!" I take a deep breath, searching for my explanation. "They'd work together to kill me once things got tough, and there's no way that I'd be able to escape from them once I'm part of their pack."

"Even with October by your side?" One of Blight's black eyebrows lifts in an infuriating manner.

I take another deep breath, through my teeth. I'm insulted that Blight would even think that I'm this stupid. "The Careers would kill us both anyway. Slowly, too. They'd torture us just to prove to the Capitol, Panem, and themselves that they could." Suddenly, I feel defensive. Maybe it's the way that Blight is looking at me, but I immediately say, childishly, "October doesn't want to, either."

Blight sighs. "I often wish that I would've accepted Crimson's offer and joined the Career alliance. I'm convinced that I could've escaped when things got tough - drought tore apart the pack early on in my Game. While they were living in cool tents with real food, I was stuck in the hot desert with nothing to eat but snake. I managed to find water, though," his eyes are distant again. "unlike most of the tributes. Too many died from dehydration that year. The Gamemakers were unhappy..." He slowly comes back to reality. "My - my point is: be sure of your decision. You may regret it later."

"I am sure," I say, firmly, thinking of how Syren and Tide treated Raven and I in the elevator. Once they saw that I was smart, they changed completely. They could change again in a heartbeat.

Blight is looking at me with that same curious expression. "Come with me. I want to show you something." He walks back towards the elevator, and I follow, wondering where he is taking me. I reach again for the comforting presence of the star necklace, and hold it as Blight leads me into an elevator and presses a button marked 'Rooftop Garden.' The elevator shoots up again in the same blur of color that I growing accustomed to. Blight leads me out of the elevator and into a domed area filled with warm air.

Shuddering, I step out of the dome quickly, and Blight follows. "Welcome," he says, "to the Garden." I catch my breath at the sight of it, and tears come to my eyes. It is much colder out here, for which I am grateful. The sun has set behind the mountains surrounding the Capitol, and the city is ablaze with lights far below us. I feel strangely disconnected to the people surging in the streets, as though I am in the stars, like my ancestors, looking down and watching. I glance up, looking for their comforting, familiar light, but seeing nothing. A pang of panic flies through me. "Where are the stars?"

Blight, understanding my panic immediately, claps my shoulder lightly. "The light drowns them out," he tells me quietly, sadly. "they're still there - we just can't see them." I stare at the blank sky, shocked. The lights were always a source of comfort for me - their absence is strange. The skies are sometimes the only thing constant in my life - cool, calm, and comforting. Sometimes, when we are in the northern part of District 7, there are beautiful ribbons of color arching across the sky. Web said that they are called Aurora Borealis, and that they appear when a person dies, and joins the stars in the sky. But there is no color, no twinkle in the sky here - only the darkness of an empty sky; an empty soul.

**~~~BTCS~~~**

_Please review. What do you think of Fawn's reaction to there being no stars?_


	11. II HOMESICKNESS

**PART II. PREPARING.  
CHAPTER 11. HOMESICKNESS.**

_So sorry, guys. This one is coming out wayy later than planned. I've just been really super busy. But that's supposedly changing now, so there can be more time for BTCS. Sorry! Late summer is just a busy time for me. Anyway... we are in autumn now. My favorite season. :) I write outside during this time. The weather is ... inspiring. As is the multitude of wind. But you'll see my feelings about wind in Fawn later ... we share that._

_Well, Fawn actually thinks about home a bit in this chapter. She can't really ignore the feeling of homesickness anymore, hence the chapter title._

_Oh, the parts! Part I Beginning was only five chapters, I think. Part II Preparing is going to continue until we enter the Games. Anyway, sorry if that confused anyone - I've been meaning to elaborate upon that, but have forgotten._

**~BTCS~**

The rooftop is cool where I sit amongst the perfectly aligned and manicured trees. I purse my lips as my eyes water. _Home ... _pine needles, the sharp tang of snow, the wind whistling through the trees... my heart pounds with prolonged homesickness, and, for the first time since I have been reaped, I allow myself to wonder about home. What are Creta and Aria doing right now? Are they curled together on their pallet, singing the lullaby to each other, since I cannot? Does my mother sleep with them, listening to the whispered melody, hardly able to breathe with worry for me?

What does the troop think? Do they also lay away, silent in the night? Do they think of me, willing me to remember how to kill, as they stare at the screens in Redwood's square?

River .. oh, River. Does he still believe that I can win, now that he has seen Luster Diamond disarming his trainer with a flick of his wrist? Has he seen how Shyne Luxor can hit the target every time from yards away with any weapon you give her? I remember, years ago, when a girl was Reaped. Her betrothal didn't leave the square, falling asleep where he stood, until she died in the bloodbath. So many of us die in the bloodbath. My breath quickens. Willow Hardwood, my predecessor, died in the bloodbath. Is this too, my fate?

I don't realize that I'm crying, a soft, sad melody drifting through my brain, until I hear a slight cough. Startled, I jump up, blinking rapidly to face whoever confronted me. The person before me is short, with rusty red hair that is lifted slightly by the wind. I place him immediately as Cabel Atom, from District 5. He is the young boy that tried to catch my eye in the elevator this morning.

My tears stop immediately, and I stand so that I tower a good foot over his head. "What do you want?" My voice isn't kind, but it's not harsh, either. I don't want to end up with this boy following me. I can't afford to get close to any other people.

Cabel's hazel eyes are wide. "Y-you," he stammers. "you ... you're scared too." I blink at him, shocked for a moment. He wasn't taunting my fear like a Career tribute would, but recognizing it as his own. "I ... I saw you crying," the boy stammers. "I - I cry. In b-bed."

I feel cautious all of a sudden. This boy is only fourteen. I glance at his hands, which are nearly as smooth as a Capitol citizen's. He has never had a job - he must be one of the lucky few that don't have to work young. How could he win the Hunger Games? Has he ever even went to bed hungry? "Listen, Cabel." He appears shocked that I know his name. "I'm sorry, but I can't ... I mean, I just need to be alone, okay?" He nods, but doesn't move. "I already have an alliance." I prompt him.

"Oh," he says. "So do I." My shock makes me do a double take. Who would want a young, weak, and inexperienced tribute as their ally? "It's Barley Harvester," Cabel explains to me. "from District 9." My mouth forms a small 'o' of understanding. Barley is younger than Cabel - thirteen, and, while appearing fitter than Cabel, has no chance to win the Games at all.

"That's good," I encourage the younger tribute, mainly out of habit. My mind is spinning inside of my head. That's another alliance outside of the Career pack - Cabel's alliance with Barley, Ryder Wheel's alliance with Thread Coil, and my own with Raven, Maze, and October. Are there more that I don't know about? "I need to go," I tell Cabel, and, unable to think straight, I walk away.

**~~BTCS~~**

Emerald smiles at me with her lavender-coated lips. I smile back, trying to conceal that I'm still shaken from my dream last night. I dreamed that I was running with my family, friends, and the other tributes through the forest, and that, one by one, we were being killed by something. I think I've had this dream before. I can't be sure, though - everything is getting mixed together.

"Today, during training, I want you to focus on what you already know, or think that you'll be good at," Blight instructs us. "I spoke with Seeder and Chaff, Maze and October's mentors, and they agreed with me. There will be another compulsory exercise - I'd imagine the hanging course is next. Raven, you've scored near the middle in all of the past exercises. I want you to keep it that way. Fawn, you've already been targeted by the Careers. You might as well push yourself and show them what you can do."

I nod, my mind flying to the knives lined up neatly against the wall on the knives station. I realize, with a sort of sick lurch from my stomach, that I am looking forward to picking them up and flinging them at the targets; to show the Gamemakers and the other tributes just how deadly I am. I push away much plate of food, sitting down the fork, and announce, "I'm done."

Emerald glances towards Blight, as though asking permission to speak. The Training Days are obviously Blight's responsibility to look over. He's doing a much better job than I would have imagined. I haven't smelled alcohol on his breath once. "Remember," Emerald tells Raven and I, "appearance is just as important as talent. If you are good at something, and can look good doing it, the Gamemakers will be impressed. It's all a big show."

Raven and I nod. Blight stands, brushing crumbs off of his jacket, and walks towards the elevator. I say a quick goodbye to Emerald and the stylists, hurrying to join Blight in the elevator. I find that it is already occupied by the tributes from District 10 - Angela Herder and Grant Farmer - and their mentor. Angela glances up, her white blonde hair flipping with her head, as I enter the elevator, and looks back down quickly. Grant, whom I noted for his bulk earlier, gives me a curt nod. Raven doesn't glance at each of them, simply staring out of the glass to the foyer below.

The elevator zooms downwards, giving a jolting halt at Floor 6. The two tributes from District 6 enter the elevator, accompanied by two mentors. The boy, his black hair drawn into a neat poneytail, keeps his expression blank as he nods to us. I remember him - Ryder Wheel, the boy allied to Thread Coil. His partner, Jet Rails, is very different. Where Ryder's features are mild, Jet's are striking. Her black hair is very straight and uniform, cut to frame her jaw perfectly. When she catches me glancing at her, black eyes narrow and glare at me until I look away.

The elevator's decent is not disturbed again. When we reach the Training Centre, Blight pats my shoulder, telling me to "remember what we talked about." I nod, and Raven avoids eye contact with either of us. As we step out of the elevator, I note that Ryder has joined Thread. After a quick scan of the cluster of tributes, I see the Careers, Cabel standing with Barley, and my own allies. Seeing that I am in no hurry, Raven leads the way

"Good morning," October greets Raven and I. I nod to my allies and continue glancing about at the other tributes. I note that Hestia Flamel, the girl from District 12 that had one of the best swimming times yesterday, is standing a distance from her ally. Have the Careers considered inviting her to their alliance? "So, Fawn," October appears to be trying for nonchalance. I glance at him, and note that he seems awfully jumpy. Did he have a nightmare last night that is still haunting him? "Tell us about ... District 7."

My eyebrows touch my hairline. "District 7?" October nods, and Maze glances at me curiously, then to her district partner with an air of concern. Surely she senses the same lethargic-ness that I do. "W-what about it?" He has taken me by surprise, and I'm not sure that I want to speak of my district. Somehow, to speak of it may make it more ... real. It may make me realize that this nightmare is ...

October shrugs, and I tear my mind from the topic. "I don't know. Something about yourself, maybe." This topic wasn't any easier. I waited for him to suggest something else. "Um," he was obviously feeling very awkward. "What's that?"

My hand flies to my temple, where the crescent moon is branded into my skin. Subconsciously, I begin to stroke it, as though it is a real and tangible thing that I can feel. The Peacekeepers marked me as trouble by branding this into my skin when I was only twelve years old - reaping age. I remember the pain that I felt, the determination that set my face into a hard mask ... Peacekeepers marked me a rebel because I was willing to die to feed those I love. "It's ..." How do I explain the troop to them? How can I describe the unspoken bond between us all? "It's the mark of my troop."

Raven nods slightly, doubtlessly having known what the mark was from the start. A small, almost delicate-appearing line forms between Maze's eyebrows. "What's a troop?"

"A group of young people who scout the forest." I take a deep breath, my hand moving from the scar to run my fingers through what Garnish calls a 'poneytail'. "There are five towns that ring the three inner towns of District 7," I explain. "the outer towns cut the lumber, and the inner three process it. I live in one of the outer, Sawdust, and Raven lives in one of the inner, Redwood." Raven nods in the edge of my vision, eyes distant. "The outer towns have to move constantly, so that District 7 remains a small, compact circle for the purposes of statistic keeping in the Capitol." _It would be much harder to keep track of a large district_, I add in my head bitterly, reminding myself that my words were being recorded.

"The forests of District 7 are untamed," I tell them. "The only modification that has been made to them by use of Capitol technology is the variety. Naturally, District 7 would only contain pine trees. But all of the trees of Panem have been genetically altered to survive in District 7's cold climate. Animals, predators and prey alike, roam the woods. Typically, they stay away from the traveling towns because they fear falling trees.

"It's impossible to guess what the traveling towns will find when they go to a new location. That's why the troops were formed. Since no adults can be spared, children of Reaping age are allowed to join the town's troop and scout out the wilderness. It's dangerous - with the coyotes, tracker jackers, and moose roaming wildly. Not many people are willing to risk their lives unless they have to - to earn the money. The Peacekeepers reason, if you are willing to risk your life to feed yourself, you are likely to be rebellious later in life. So they brand us with marks." My hand motions to the crescent moon again. "The marks different from troop to troop. River's troop, Mist Troop, is from Sap, and their mark is a swirling ball of mist."

A moment of silence passes as I stare in the distance, remembering my troop. "So you are part of ... Crescent Moon Troop?" Maze guesses. I nod, unable to summon any more words. "We have something similar to troops," she says. "We call them harvesting groups. October and I are in the same group. We help each other harvest a row a day. How many people are in troops? There's only three in harvesting groups - me, October, and Peach make up ours."

I smile slightly, thinking of my troop-mates. "There can be any number, theoretically. But, typically, there are eight to ten scouts in a troop. In the Crescent Moon Troop, we have eight - Lyda, Kri, Lore, Riccy, Trew, Johanna, Poy, and I." My throat clogs with emotion that I have been attempting to suppress. "We are as close as a family."

October appears sympathetic, and changes course. "It is dangerous, in the forest? Are you attacked very often?"

"Normally on the first day we scout," I admit, "we are attacked. The last trip, it was coyotes." Sensing the oncoming question, I continued, "We are given throwing knives that are kept by the Peacekeepers when we aren't scouting, to protect ourselves."

"That's how you got so good at running and climbing," Maze realizes, with a slight smile.

I study her lithe frame, and make a guess. "You climb trees to harvest fruit," I say. "That's why you're so good at climbing."

Maze nods, her eyes shining with nostalgia. "Yes, I do. I'm the smallest of the group, and I go to get the highest fruit on the smallest branches. October gets the ones in the middle, and Peach gets the ones at the very bottom." October nods in agreement to Maze's words, and I study the two. If they had not been Reaped, would there ever have been any romance between them?

This makes me think of my song - the one I had been composing during Festival Time in District 7. How content that song had made me - to think that two tributes might turn on the Capitol was joyous. Now that I am actually in the Games, however, would I dare tell others to try and rebel? Would I be willing to sacrifice what little chance I had at winning, to be rebellious in my last days?

Atala calls us together in our two half-moon circles again. She announces that the compulsory excercise for this morning is a hanging course. She gestures to the ceiling, and I see that a thin net, nearly invisible, is structured between us and the ceiling - some fifty feet from the ceiling, and 70 from the floor. As Atala describes the hand holds we will encounter upon the ceiling, I notice that Cole Miner from District 12 is flinching. I regard the boy with olive skin and dark hair with interest. Does he have a fear of heights?

The order we are to stand in is announced, with me standing by Pixel Flash and Angela Herder. The two girls do not appear unfriendly towards me. Angela offers me a small smile, which I return uneasily. Pixel nods to me, and turns so that I am staring at her long, brown hair. "Hi," Angela extends a white hand. "I'm Angela." Her white blonde hair is stark against the dark colors of the training uniforms.

"Fawn Dogwood." I take her hand and shake it, glancing around for my own allies. October and Raven stand a short distance in front of me, framed by Rye Brown, Mason Flint, Barley Harvester, and Cole Miner. Maze is near the end of the line, beside Syren and Cotton Flinch. Catching me glancing about, Syren sends me a curious look. She invited me into her alliance, and caught me shaking hands with a weak tribute from District 10 the next day. Uneasy, I let go of Angela's hand, and rebuff her attempts at conversation.

Cabel, the boy I spoke with on the rooftop, goes first. A small platform raises him to the ceiling. He is very high up, and difficult to see. I squint my hair, trying to make out facial features beneath rusty red hair. The screen that shows scores provides a close up of Cabel, so that we (tributes, trainers, and Gamemakers alike) may observe him. Cabel's face is pale, making his red hair stark against his freckled face. He glances around himself, taking a deep breath and adapting to his surroundings. His arms raise to grip the bar directly above him, the platform sinks away from his feet, and the clock begins.

I watch with interest as Cabel struggles to reach the next bar. This excersize is judged on speed as well as ease. Atala encouraged us, her gaze directed to the Careers, to do whatever flips we might be capable of while completing the course. Clearly, the Gamemakers were expecting a show.

Cabel manages to grip the second bar with his fish, and detaches his other one. For a moment, he dangles with one hand upon the bar before bringing his dangling hand to touch the gripping one in a jerking motion. He repeats this once more, and reaches for the fourth bar with more confidence. He didn't realize that the fourth bar was different. Maybe he wasn't listening very well when Atala explained. In any case, when he sweaty palms touch the smooth, slightly damp bar, his fingers slip. Again, he is hanging by one hand. I hold my breath. What will he do now?

His face shows panic. He reaches up so that he is hanging by two hands again, though it is obvious that he is shaking. Cabel reaches out to try for the bar again, but his hand slips once more, and this time, he is unable to hold himself with one arm. He drops like a rock, towards the nearly invisible net. Falling face-first, I can make out Cabel's dilated eyes as he screams in terror. Even though I know the net is there, I flinch. It seems cruel that he has to fall so long before the net tosses him back up a short distance.

Cabel's scream reaches a new pitch. Shyne lets out a high snicker, filled with contempt for the little boy. I shoot her a glare that she doesn't catch, glancing around at the other snickering Careers. Cabel finally settles onto the net, and stays curled in a ball for a moment, shocked to his very shell. Atala's voice, magnified by some means, instructs him to crawl to the edge of the net, where a platform is waiting to take him back down. Still shaking, Cabel complies, crawling like a common dog to the edge. My heart bursts in anger and pity as Shyne lets out a high giggle, and Luster chuckles loudly.

I avert my gaze as, humiliated, Cabel steps from the platform, which disappears into the floor. I remind myself that Cabel is not my ally - he's just another one of the tributes that I should keep as faceless as possible. He has to die for me to win. It is that simple.

I notice that Angela looks sick. I'm not sure why - she is obviously muscular. District 10 deals with livestock - she's probably worked with large, heavy animals since she was young. Cabel, however, from the energy district ... Pixel, before me, is less than athletic. Being from the technology district, it's not a surprising thought that she doesn't do a lot of labor. She probably spends her days before computers, trying out new technology programs. However, her face is drawn into a pondering mask, as though she is calculating the momentum she will have to have, to overcome the slippery bar. The only sign of agitation that is coming from her are the red streaks upon her arms. I glance at her, to see her scratching her scalp. A frown tugs at my lips - what a disgusting habit.

Ryder Wheel is raised to the bars when I look up. His long black hair, tied in a poneytail, gives him a stern appearance, rather than the neat one that I had observed before. I glance at Thread Coil, standing just in front of Pixel, and notice that his expression is completely cool and calm - a picture of serenity and indifference that I find impressive. His eyes, however, are trained on his ally, and I know that he is more intent upon the training than he appears.

Ryder briefly stretches his arms, cracking his knuckles, before grabbing the bar. The platform practically disappears, moving like a blur away from Ryder as the clock starts. With a jolt, he grabs the next one, his other arm snapping forward without hesitation. With a lurch, the rest of his body follows. Ryder reaches the next without problem as well. He hesitates before letting go of the bar with his right hand and wiping it on his shirt. Then he does the same with his left. After several seconds of hesitation, he reaches out and grabs the bar, his other hand following quickly, as though to make sure he wouldn't change his mind. He sings forwards, and then backwards, like an autumn leaf ready to fall from an oak tree, before reaching out blindly for the next bar and catching it by luck. He repeats this process, until he reaches the last of the slippery bars.

The next bars require speed - they are small, flimsy, and programmed to break after three seconds of holding onto them. They are also programmed to the body weight that they will be put upon them. Ryder makes it to the second, but hesitates too long, and falls when the support of the bar disappears. His face registers shock, and later disappointment, and he clenches his jaw to keep himself from screaming like Cabel did.

More snickers come from the Careers, dominantly from Mason this time. I glance away from Ryder, who is now as blank faced as Thread's as he crawls to the edge of the net, to look at the chuckling Career. He is stretching his arms, preparing to step onto the platform as Ryder is lifted down. As he is lifted into the air, he looks at the ground, apparently completely at ease with the height. He grabs the bar the moment he can, speeding through the course with speed I consider reckless. I've seen climbers better than him fall from being reckless. All the same, he breezes through the normal and the slippery bars. He's going so fast, the thin ones aren't a problem. Then, he encounters the hardest stage. Here, the bars are a variety of the past three, and the course curves up and down, side to side, even doubling over to continue the way it had come. At one point, the bars move upwards in a complete curve, so that you have to reach upwards two feet and pull yourself through the bars to continue.

Mason does fine with the curves and bumps. It isn't until he reaches a bar that he didn't realize was slippery that he messes up. His balance shifts, and he looses his grip with his right hand. Before he can get his hand back up, his left slips as well, and he plummets to the net.

I can't hide a smirk as I see Mason's furious face. He grunts as he hits the net, and is forced to crawl to the ending, just like Cabel and Ryder. The other Careers appear widely annoyed by Mason's less-than-perfect performance. Cabel and Ryder appear to be gladdened by it, though, but their expressions change as Mason stands beside them, glaring at them both fearsomely. Ryder quickly puts a natural mask on, but I think that Cabel might melt into the ground, his obvious fear is so great. A pang resounds through me, and protectiveness for Cabel again runs through me, but I push it back once more, reminding myself how silly it is.

Raven is already at the top of the room, hesitating before grabing the first bar, when I look up. I send a silent prayer to our ancestors in the stars. If Raven can do well in this... maybe things will be different for him. Maybe he'll finally be able to have confidence, and the Gamemakers might actually give him a good training score. I hold my breath as he wipes his hands and reaches for the bar.

He takes the course slow. The first normal bars he does mechanically, trying to copy Mason's fluid movement, and not Ryder's and Cabel's. It is obvious that he does not climb, but he has learned from the past three failures. He takes his time before going on, letting himself stop moving on the three slippery bars. Not until he moves onto the smaller bars does he rush, but he pauses again when done with them, always looking at his next bar before moving. His speed is dismal, but he makes it further than Mason - all the way to the part where he has to reach through the bars. He slips in the process, and falls to the net.

Raven appears disappointed as he crawls to the platform, but I am exhilerated. He has the best score yet - and he has scored above a Career! I share a beam with October and Maze, ignoring the glares that the Careers, particularly Mason, are sending Raven. I glance up at the Gamemakers to them considering Raven for the first time - wondering what potential he has, guessing at a higher training score than they had planned.

As Raven nears the ground again, I send him a genuine smile, which he returns, although appearing frazzled from his fall. He stands a good distance away from Mason, closer to Cabel, who looks towards my district partner with that wide-eyed, innocent expression. Raven glances at him, and the quickly glances away, edging from the other tribute. Like me, he doesn't want to get close to someone who will doubtlessly die so quickly.

Rye Brown, the hostile girl from District 9, is next. Her dark face is set as she grabs the bar. She manages well - moving decisively, and quickly. She ends up making it farther than Raven, messing up when she encountered a sharp turn on a wet bar. Not a bad preformance - actually, it is the best yet. I note dryly as Rye comes down that she is a force not to be reckoned with.

The male tribute of District 12, Cole Miner, goes up next. He is one of the boys that I have noted for looking underfed, but strong. He is also the boy that looked terrified as Atala described the ropes course. His hands are clenched into fists as he steps onto the rail-less platform, and the screen shows how his eyes grow larger the farther up he goes. When the platform stops smoothly, he gulps, looks down, and then quickly back up. Almost as though subconsciously, Cole moves his hands to grip the bar.

When the platform slides away, he cannot suppress a shrill squeal of alarm. Eyes closed tight, he grips the bar tightly for several long moments. Then, he opens his eyes slowly to fix them on the next bar. His hand slides forward, and Cole glances down. I can tell by the look on his face as he looks downward that he cannot make it farther. He slips, and falls. The pure fear in his eyes is so heartbreaking, I have to look away from it. As the platform lowers him to the ground, I glance over. The 17 year old boy is near tears with relief to see the solid ground.

October is up next. I glance up at the scoreboard to memorize the scores. Rye is first, with Raven behind her. Mason is next, and then Ryder and Cabel. Cole has the least. October's face is shining with confidence, and his expression doesn't weaken in the slightest as the platform lifts him up. He doesn't hesitate, grabbing the bar immediately and swinging through the first few with ease. He hesitates a split second before the slippery bars, before moving past them with ease as well. The thin ones pose no harm to him, either.

I notice the blank mask that October's face has made as he swings through the curves and bumps with ease, not hesitating before any of the bars and making good times. His form shows practice and agility. When he reaches the part where he has to reach through the bars, he hesitates, making himself swing back and forth, building momentum. Then, so fast that I almost miss it, he swings his feet to touch the bar ahead of him, following through with his torso and arms, and gripping the bar that was far above his head seconds before.

My mouth snaps open. We never did anything like that in District 7. I watch October carefully. He is now situated backwards, and I wait for him to turn himself around. However, he simply turns his head sideways and finishes the course backwards, with just as much ease as he did the beginning. The moment his feet touch the platform and his hands leave the bars, he is lifted down as the first tribute to finish the course.

My heart still pounding for worry that he would fall, I beam shakily at October's approaching form, and shake my head slightly. I'm not sure that I can score higher than he did. I watch as October joins Raven humbly, as Raven obviously congratulates October on his performance. I glance at Maze, catching her excited look. She is obviously very eager to do the course. I wonder if climbing is one of the things that reminds her of home. If she were to close her eyes, would she see trees filled with fruit instead of cool, grey metal bars?

I shake my head slightly to clear it. Barley Harvester, the young ally to Cabel Atom, is now climbing. He slips at the first slippery bar, ranking slightly below his ally. Thread Coil makes it just farther than his ally, Ryder Wheel. Pixel Flash, who still stands in front of me, steps onto the platform. Her face is completely blank as she grabs the bar a few seconds later, high above me. I study her as she makes her way through the first few bars jerkily, but with a determination that I can't help but admire. She makes it to the part where the turns begin, and then slips. I glance at the screen as her picture appears just after Mason's.

It's my turn. I step onto the platform quickly, and watch the ground as it lifts me up. When it stops, I take a few moments to stretch out my arms and observe my surroundings. The bars are roughly a foot and a half apart, though that changes as one progresses. The netting, from this view, is nonexistent, and it appears that if one fell, they would hit the ground. I grin to myself, thinking of how I fell during Branchball on purpose, and how the troop caught me. I remember all of the years I have spent flying through the trees, using branches far less stable and uniform than these. Confidence overflowing, I reach up and grab the bar.

The platform disappears. It's an unnerving feeling - to have the support under your feet gone suddenly. I swallow whatever saliva was left in my mouth and clench my teeth in concentration, rearranging my hands upon the bar. I swing forward, grabbing the next bar and pulling my body through the movement like water. The next is just as simple. The slippery bars are cool under my fingers - like branches covered in ice. The thin bars bear resemblance to the branches at the tops of trees.

The movements are natural, and become subconscious. I realize that I am smiling as I sing through the course. Hanging reminds me of home, and, unbidden, the smell of pine needles comes to my nose. I can almost hear mockingjays singing, branches rustling, the troop laughing far below me...

I reach through the bars without hesitation and bring myself to the next level. I don't attempt any crazy acrobatic moves like October did. I simply swing through the course with the ease of a practiced member of a District 7 scouting troop. When reaching the end, I hesitate before touching my feet to the platform. As it begins to lower me, I do something spontaneous, on a whim.

I launch myself off of the plate, towards where I know the net much be, my arms spread open to catch the wind. I scream in pure exhilaration, beaming as the ground rushes closer. The wind tears through me, whipping my hair behind me, and whistling in my ears. For a moment, I am completely free - like a bird in the sky, I could launch up and disappear at any given moment. I could go anywhere I want just because I want to.

Just as the fuzzy blurs that are people on the ground begin to come into focus, I feel the net. It pushes me back up for about five meters, and I whoop in excitement. When I fall back down again, I stay still for a moment, breathing shallowly, my heart pounding.

I beam as I get onto my hands and knees, crawling towards where the platform is waiting for me. When I stand upon the hard surface, my legs are shaking. As I near the ground, I notice the other tribute's expressions. October appears amused by my flight, shaking his head at me. Maze looks jealous, and I wonder if she will attempt it as well. Raven, however, appears absolutely terrified for me. The Careers' reactions range from shock to approval. Cole Miner looks ready to be sick. Most of the other tributes just appear surprised, or even awed.

I glance up at the scoreboard as I join October and Raven. I am second, behind October, and before Rye. I beam at my allies as I walk up, a skip to my step that I'm not sure I have shown them before. October shakes his head at me again. "Did you have fun?" he asks, his tone teasingly patronizing.

"Yes," I beam at him, reliving the moment in my mind. I glance up at the course as Angela Herder is lifted up. I wonder if I will be allowed to do it again during free training time...

"I cannot even believe you just did that," Raven's voice is still containing a bit of shock. I return my gaze to him, meeting his terrified eyes. "What if you had missed the net - you'd have fallen right on the floor, and ..." he trails off, meaning implied.

I shrug. "I'd be dead, I guess. But I'll probably be dead in a few weeks, so what's the harm in having some fun?" Raven flinches at the meaning of my words, and the casual tone in which they are delivered, but falls silent.

With a heavy sigh, I watch as Angela falls on the thin bars, placing herself behind Ryder Wheel. Luster Diamond goes up next, and manages to complete the course. His time and ease were not as great as mine or October's, and so he places himself behind me. Appearing quite satisfied with his production, he gives October and I a curt nod and stands beside Mason.

Jet Rails goes after Luster. She gets farther than Raven, and I shoot my ally a placating look as he is pushed farther down the list of tributes. He waves it off, no longer appearing quite as angry with me. Cotton Flinch falls immediately, becoming the last person. Cole looks cheered by this, but Cotton is near tears herself as she crawls to the platform. I try to ignore the sniggering of the Careers, knowing that I will only do something foolish.

Maze steps up to the platform, her sense of excitement still evident on her face. She goes through the initial bars with such speed that she is a blur. I can tell immediately what October meant about her being a better climber than her. It is immediately obvious. After clearing the thin bars, she swings herself on top of the bars like October did. Like a spider, she climbs atop the bars until she can reach the second set. Then, she flips and spins her way through the rest of the course, finishing with a flip perfectly oriented to land her on the platform.

October catches my eye, beaming, as Maze's name appears first upon the list. "I told you," he whispers, watching Maze approach us. "She's absolutely amazing."

"What did you think?" Maze asks as she joins us.

I shake my head. "You out-showed me, that's for sure."

"I'm sorry." She doesn't mean it. It's good that I don't want an apology. I shake it off, beaming at her.

Raven smiles at her. "You were amazing," he tells her sincerely.

Maze smiles back, obviously still exhilarated. "I feel amazing," she tells us. After a moment's pause, she adds, "You all did really well too. Raven, you're a really fast learner!" Raven smiles bashfully in the face of praise.

Shaking my head, I gesture towards the ceiling, where Syren is flipping her way through the course. Unlike October, Maze, and I, there is obvious strain in her movements, and when she finishes, she is panting heavily. I turn to the screen, holding my breath. Did she score above me? Her name appears just below mine, and I let out a sigh of relief. Looking disappointed, Syren gives me a nod, which I return, uneasy with all the attention I was getting from the Careers. When I turn down entrance to their alliance, how will they act? I glance away from where Syren stands with Mason and Luster quickly.

Grant Farmer's strength gets him through a fair amount of the course, scoring before Jet. Geniss Mount, whose strength is also great, goes next. She finishes the course, and scores below Luster. Appearing discouraged by her score, she joins the Careers. Scarlett Wires, the girl I have noticed for being tricky, manages to make it almost as far as Raven, who looks relieved that another person has not been placed above him.

Tide Playa manages the course well, finishing just after his district partner. Hestia Flamel, the gril from District 12 that can swim well, makes it just farther than Thread, to the beginning of the turns. Chip Drive falls after confronting the slippery bars. Shyne finishes the course in great speed - faster than I did. However, her agility wasn't great, and she places below Syren.

As Atala calls us back to our half moons, it is hard not to notice the Gamemaker's eyes upon me. What score are they considering giving me? They range from 1 to 12, with 12 being the highest and impossible to achieve. Most tributes will get 3-5. As the Gamemakers study me, I gulp and pray that I will be awarded an 8 or a 9.

**~~~BTCS~~~**

_Well? What did you think? Please review. Hopefully the next chapter will be up quicker!_


	12. II CAREER

**PART II. PREPARING.  
CHAPTER 12. CAREER.**

_Sorry for the delay, guys. Kinda bogged down with work :( well, I finally managed to compose this, anyway. I really wanted to perfect the feel of the Carreer alliance's attitudes. I mean, they're completely different from all the other tributes because they prepared and volunteered. So their reaction to being in the Games is completely different, right? I wanted to redefine the way that we look at Careers, and I do that in this chapter._

**~BTCS~**

Maze suggests splitting up today, to allow us chances to try what we are good at alone. I agree, thinking that it will be a good chance to observe some other tributes' strengths. "I'm going to slingshots," Maze adds.

"Knives," I say quickly, eyes flashing in excitement. It has been two weeks since I threw knives, and a savage part of me cannot wait for my hands to touch the smooth hilts of knives again. I've been eyeing the Knives Station with longing, as though a magnet is driving me closer to the weapon that I will kill tributes with. This thought makes me slightly nervous, but I push back the nausea with difficulty.

Raven is glancing at the wrestling station. I remember that Blight had hoped that Raven will be good at that particular station. "I'll go to Wrestling," he says.

October frowns slightly, assessing the stations that we have not visited yet. "I'll go to Hand-to-Hand Combat, I guess." He hesitates before adding, "We should try to visit all of the weapon stations before lunch."

"That's a lot of stations," Maze sounds dubious. I nod in agreement. We would have to visit Crossbows, Axes, Hand-to-Hand Combat, Knives, Slingshots, Tridents, and Wrestling.

Raven muses, "That would leave us with the afternoon for Fires, Knots, Shelters, Weightlifting, and Concealment." He glances at me, meeting my eyes, and shrugs. "That could work."

"We get tomorrow morning for training, too." I remind them. "If we get all of the stations done today, we could use that time for reviewing."

My allies nod in agreement. "So..." October glances at his first station, Hand-to-Hand Combat. "See you all at lunch." We disperse without another word, heading to our respective stations. My eyes lock on the unoccupied Knives Station. Though I have no memory of consciously making my legs move faster, I reach the station in a matter of seconds.

The instructor smiles at me. I smile back. "Fawn Dogwood, District 7." I extend my hand, and he shakes it.

"Paxton," he replies. I study him, memorizing his features, though I haven't bothered to do this for any other instructor. His brown hair and eyes appear to be in their natural state. His features are smooth and young, though not artificially. I've noticed similar traits between the other instructors, too, now that I think about it. I wonder if trainers are required to look natural. Does Paxton transform to look like the typical monstrous Capitol citizen after the Training Sessions?

I glance at the knives, and Paxton quickly encourages me to try them out. Heart beating in anticipation and excitement, I grab one of the belts lining the wall and clip it around my waist. The belts are lined with sheaths for knives. As I place the knives in their sheaths, I count until I reach twenty-three. I straighten slowly, feeling their weight. Back home, we received only five knives every person, with no sheaths. What a luxury to have this belt, and these knives ...

A belt snaps behind me. Startled, I pivot to face the sound. Shyne Luxor, blond hair carefully pulled into a bun, gives me a nod. I nod back and turn around, shocked that I didn't hear her approach. I glance over at Hand-to-Hand Combat to see that October is being followed by Mason Flint. Maze at Slingshots and Raven at Wrestling are not being followed. My shoulders stiffen. The Careers are keeping October and I specifically watched.

As Shyne loads her belt with knives, Paxton leads me to the basic targets, insisting that I start with the basics. However, he soon realizes that I am not new at knife throwing. He quickly has me before moving targets. Some targets light up randomly, and I have to throw on a whim. By the time Shyne joins me, I have worked up a comfortable sweat.

Out of the corner of my eye, I observe the Career. It is immediately obvious that she is almost as good as me. She can hit the targets eight times out of ten, while I seldom miss the center. I am contemplating the flaws in her form when Paxton directs me to an open space. "Try this." he beams. "We use it mostly for long-range Careers, but you're good enough to try."

I nod in thanks and agreement, and Paxton walks to a large box that reaches his chest. He begins tapping on it like it is a device of some sort. I stiffen, unsure of what to do next. I remove a knife slowly from my belt, turning it over in my hands, and crouch, ready.

A clay bird shoots out from the ground as though a real bird in sudden, startled flight. The knife is spinning towards the bird before a thought occurs in my mind. The bird falls to the ground with a satisfying thud. Even from twenty meters away, I can see that it was struck in the eye. A clean kill.

Two more birds shoot out. Two knives fly from my hands, and both birds fall slowly. I can feel myself slowing down time as though magic, and a sly smile spreads across my face as I remove another knife from my belt. I am looking forward to the physical exertion that is surely about to occur.

Suddenly, birds are shot out from the ceiling, the walls, the floor, in all different directions. Like real birds, they fly in flocks, long triangular shapes. I lose myself in the activity, my life becoming the movement of the birds and the knives in my belt. It is so nice to throw again - it reminds me of the woods and freedom. Life in District 7 is a constant test of survival. Here in the Capitol, one could live without even trying. _I _have been living without trying. Throwing makes me feel a liveliness that I haven't felt since leaving District 7.

I realize subconsciously that I'm beaming. My laughter echos in my ears, a swirling melody playing in my brain. My hair has fallen from its poneytail, and the same elation that falling from the hanging course this morning fills me.

Suddenly, all the motion stops. I grip one last knife in my hand, and glance around quickly, looking for the last bird. It never appears. I straighten, and my vision, having acquainted itself with targeting the birds, goes fuzzy for a moment. I blink quickly, glancing around until it clears. My eyes fall first on the Gamemakers, who are nodding their approval of me. I give them a bow-salute in the fashion of District 7 - right hand on the heart, left extended to the sky - and receive more nods.

I wonder if they think my manner of bowing to be odd. I've seen their version - feet placed stiffly together, arms to the side, and a rigid move of the torso to face the ground.

My eyes fall on Paxton, who smiles in his way of congratulating me. I give him the bow as well, and he returns it in the fashion of the Capitol. Then I turn, eager to get more knives and try it again, but, instead, I find Shyne standing shockingly close to me. Again, I am surprised that I didn't hear her approach. She must be incredibly stealthy.

Shyne tilts her fair head slightly, studying me. "That was very good, Fawn," she said, and I am reminded of my mother congratulating me for reciting my numbers when I was young. "Very impressive."

"Thanks." I give her a curt nod, moving to pass her, but she blocks my way again. Silently, I curse. I knew that she had more to say.

"You have thought about joining the Career's alliance?" it isn't really a question, but I nod in answer anyway, but throat clogged. "What do you think to do?"

My breath catches in my throat. Surprise fills me. Shyne expects me to answer now? My eyes seek out October, and I see that Mason has confronted him as well. October's lips form words I cannot make out, and I wait for Mason to become angry. However, Mason's face breaks into a smile and the boys shake hands.

I understand our ruse immediately. I return my eyes to Shyne's waiting face. "I ... I have decided to join you."

Shyne's face breaks into a grin. She sticks her hand out, and I shake it. "Welcome to the Career alliance." she says. I nod to her, feeling as though something is stuck in my throat. What will I tell Raven and Maze? Oh stars, what will I tell Blight?

"I..." I clear my throat, struggling to find my voice. "I was about to head to the Axes Station." My head is tilted questioningly, and Shyne understands what I am implying immediately.

"Syren, Gneiss, and I will accompany you," she offers, though I am not fooled into thinking this to be generous. There is still a false note to her voice, and stiffness in her gaze. I am not a traditional Career. I must be watched.

Shyne leads me to the Axes Station like I am a young child. Gneiss materializes on my right side, and Syren on my left seconds later. I am, again, startled by how quickly they move. With the three female Careers around me, I have a complete guarded escort. I swallow tightly, nervous sweat covering my body. Gneiss's muscles seem larger than ever. How easily she could crush my skull...

I notice that the tributes are looking at me differently. Cabel Atom's eyes grow icy as he spots me. I quickly look away, and my eyes find Barley Harvester as he scrambles out of our way. Pixel Atom seems surprised. Rye seems murderous, but that isn't a change from her normal demeanor. Are their reactions simply because of my presence with the Careers? Or is it because of the guilty look I must be leaking?

I immediately clear my face of all emotion, focusing my eyes on Shyne's bun. Her hair must be rather long when it's done, because I can now see that the blond strands have been tightly braided and then pulled back. The knot on the back of her head is three times the size of my fist, and I am contemplating how it stands to Gneiss's fists when we reach the Axes Station.

The Careers wordlessly grab axes and approach the same lighting targets I used at the Knives Station. I, however, take an axe into my hands and slowly access it. The handle is very smooth and easy to grip at the same time. The entire body of the axe is made of smooth, cool metal that has a deadly glint to it. It is much heavier than those from home, and has no imperfections. I hold it out, admiring it for a long moment. Then, I glance up at the Gamemakers, several of whom are glancing at me. This is the weapon of my district. They expect me to use it well.

I walk away from the Careers, to the thick beams that are set up, gripping my axe tightly with both hands, though I can easily manage its weight with one loose hand. An instructor hurries over, smiling slightly. "District 7 ... I was wondering when you'd make your way over."

I smile easily, the feel of the axe as reassuring as the movement of throwing knives. "It seemed like a good time to show off." The instructor's eyes flicker to the Careers, and flood in understanding. She prompts me to try to cut this pole as I would a tree. I move my narrowed eyes from her to the 'tree', raising the axe. Without the imperfections all trees naturally have, it is hard to determine the best place to cut it. After a brief moment of deliberation, I simply swing.

The axe cleanly cuts through the pole. I wait for it to fall, mouth open to call a warning. Instead, the pole re-seals itself. The instructor laughs at my shock, leading me to larger poles. They are all easier to cut through than I expect, but soon it takes several swings to sever them completely. When I finally cut down the last 'tree', I am covered in sweat.

I move on to the targets. I have rarely thrown axes, but I can still hit the center circle more often than any of the Careers, and the knowledge fills me with pleasure. I find a sort of savage pleasure in seeing the dummies skewered, and I briefly imagine that, with each axe, I throw away a bit more of my stress. When I grow tired of the motion, and am too exhausted to continue, the Careers escort me to Crossbows.

**~~BTCS~~**

I manage well with crossbows, and Syren identifies me as a long-range fighter. I do surprisingly well with tridents, but cannot compare to Syren's superior skill to the rest of us in this station. Gneiss is the best with hand-to-hand combat, but that doesn't surprise me. The trainer tells me a few quick ways to end fights besides strength using a dagger, and advises me to keep one hidden on me at all times. Of course, I'm with the Careers now. I'll definetly have a dagger to spare and hide. The instructor at Wrestling suggests something similar, teaching me the pressure points of the body, and I prove to be competent with the slingshot.

The Careers, I discover, actually aren't that bad. Once I begin to talk to them, they give information surprisingly easily. I suppose they aren't scared of loosing what they've left behind, so why should they be hesitant to speak about it? Shyne has ten siblings, soon to be eleven. She tells me proudly that they are all training for the Hunger Games. Even one year old Gem is being trained to run. Gneiss is very close to her older brother. They do everything together. Syren has a family of six at home and a larger family at the docks.

It occurs to me that we all have so much to loose, yet all three of these volunteered for the Games. It helps me to understand them and their Districts. In the Career Districts, life isn't about survival like it is in 7. You have to work to survive, but living to old age isn't the highest honor. The highest honor is to live in their booming Victor's Villages, and have lots of money. Those who live there look down on everyone else. To live there is to be granted heaven on Earth. And Gneiss, Syren, and Shyne are willing to die for the chance to go there.

"Dying in the Games is the most honorable death there is," Shyne explains to me. "My family won't mourn me if I pass. They'll celebrate my opportunity and curse the one that stole victory from me. No tears shall be spread. It's the only happy death."

As they begin to get a feel for my personality, the Careers stop walking around my in formation. Jokes begin to be tossed around, and soon I am laughing with them. As I crack a joke on Syren's behalf, I get a start. I _like _them, I realize. Syren's joking demeanor and Shyne's carefree attitude mix well with my own. Gneiss is the most reserved of us, but she even cracks a few jokes and laughs as we talk.

It feels odd to sit at the Career table, I reflect. As October, Mason, Tide, and Luster join us (how quickly 'they' has become 'us'!), I notice that they have similar interactions with each other that us girls have. October's eyes dart from me to where Maze and Raven sit, firmly looking away from our table. My heart aches with apologies for them, but I know that I cannot approach them now. I look away before one of my fellow Careers catch me looking.

"So," Tide's clear blue eyes move from October's face to my own. "Welcome, October and Fawn. You made the right choice." His eyes glint for an instant with such malice that for an instant, I believe that he would have killed us simply for refusing him. Of course, this is the Hunger Games, I remind myself. But the Careers have been so nice that I can easily forget that we are tributes.

I incline by head to the District 4 tribute. "Thank you." October does likewise.

Syren folds her fingers together, leaning forward. "We need to formulate our Cornucopia plan." She glances at October and me. "That's why we needed your answers today," she explains. I nod, glancing at October. What are we going to do? Our ruse can only hold for so long..

"Obviously, we rush in to get supplies," Luster states, messing with a ring on his finger. I gaze at it, curious, and realize that it must be his approved token. Is it a promise ring? My hands fly to my own token, pine tingling in my nostrils and a pang of homesickness in my heart.

"I say that half of us stay at the Cornucopia to take out those stupid enough to try for supplies," Shyne smirks. "and the other half track the fleeing ones." This is greeted with general consent, as well as compliments to Shyne. I remember seeing this tactic done only once in the Games, and that was years ago. I don't know why the Careers haven't tried it since.

Mason suggests the groups. He keeps October and I at the Cornucopia (no doubt thinking that we'll run if given the opportunity) with himself and Shyne. Luster, Gneiss, Tide, and Shyne he suggests track down the fleeing tributes. This, too, is immediately accepted without dispute. Despite myself, I am surprised at how easily the Careers accept that they are not in charge of the group. In the arena, the Careers always seem to be arguing. I wonder if they always act courteous in the pre-game. I wouldn't know - I have never paid attention. I never cared about the Careers, never thought of them as anything but savage beasts until now.

We then begin to reserve weapons at the Cornucopia. Tide states the average statistics of available weapons at the Cornucopia. "There will be five swords, one axe, three slingshots, a bow, two maces, six spears, a crossbow, eighteen knives, and six daggers, with the occasional appearance of throwing stars and tridents." We count that the supply of weapons will average this year, and the rights to swords are immediately given out. The shortest goes to Shyne, the heaviest to Luster. Tide claims a flat sword, and Syren a two-handed one (Seeing my confusion, she explains that she is ambidextrous). October takes the remaining sword.

Tide quickly claims any trident present in the Cornucopia, eyeing Syren as though he had raced to beat her to it. Syren, face impassive, doesn't look at him as she claims any throwing stars and knives.

A well of protest rises in me. "I throw knives." Once the words are out, I realize that my voice was too sharp, my tone too demanding. All of the Careers' eyes slowly turn to me. Suddenly, the realization of what we are doing hits me. We are arguing over the weapons we will use to kill children. The people before me suddenly look much more dangerous.

I take a shaky breath, trying to stiffen my resolve. I glance at October. We will never be able to escape by force or survive afterwords if I don't have my knives. With them, I can kill tributes and get food. I can cut rope, and climb trees without branches. I can even make amputations if necessary. Once, back home, the troop's eldest member at the time, Flake, required an amputation. I'll never forget the blood on the snow, and the way she screamed. Remembering Flake, I speak again, my voice firm. "I want a portion of the knives."

Syren studies me momentarily, something shifting in her gaze. I sense that it is cold, but it isn't exactly hateful. There's something like respect, and maybe fear in those bright green orbs as well. I sit taller, meeting her eyes, trying to convey through my posture that I am not willing to back down. Syren's posture tells the same story. Slowly, Syren opens her mouth and forms the words, "Can you throw?"

Shyne speaks before I can, muttering so that only Syren and I can hear. "She throws well. Very well. Better than you do, Syren. Better than anyone I've ever seen." There it is - that flash of fear in her eyes, as well, as she remembers me throwing. After a flash, the look is gone, and Shyne's fair face is as impassive as ever. It is silly to think that these people should be scared of me. After so many nights turning in my sleep, picturing them killing me in horrible ways, how can they be scared of me? I'm sure that I just imagined their expressions. I can't be right.

I can sense the waiting atmosphere of the table, unaware of what Shyne said, waiting for Syren's reply. Every part of me is shrieking a warning of danger, waiting for Syren to leap up and try to strangle me. I force myself to look into Syren's eyes, keeping my expression as firm as possible, removing all signs of fear from my eyes. I know that this is what two predators look like when they meet. A fight may not occur immediately, but only a short time passes before one is dead, and the other stands alone.

Finally, Syren nods to me. "Very well."

The table regains its lighthearted atmosphere immediately. I look away from Syren, at October again, who gives me a smile and a sort of encouraging nod. I wish that I could speak to him - really speak to him, with no one listening. Will there ever be another time, without the Careers around? We will have to pass messages through Maze and Raven, I realize. Maybe I can tell him about the rooftop garden in this manner.

Mason asks for the daggers, which surprises me. With his thick frame, a mace might better fit him. I ask him timidly, and he doesn't hesitate to answer that they are useful to him in Hand-to-Hand Combat. If he keeps them up his sleeve, he says, he can surprise his opponent and end their lives quickly.

I ask if anyone is suited for the axe, trying to feign nonchalance. Now that I have gotten my share of the knives, I want the axe. It is obvious that the Careers understand this immediately. They look at me a moment, and Luster simply says, "None more so than you, District 7." And that settles it. The axe (axes, if there are several in the arena) is mine. This fills me with satisfaction and pleasure. I wonder if I am a true Career now that the though of weapons brings me such pleasure.

Luster and Mason agree to split the spears. There is no repeat of the stare down that Syren and I underwent. They simply both state that they want spears, and agree to split them. I glance sideways at Syren, and she gives me a small smile before looking at Luster. I assume that this means to forget our dispute - we are to act like friends again.

Gneiss claims one of the maces, which isn't surprising. Shyne claims the other, which is. When I shoot her a questioning look, she shrugs. "It's not that difficult to manage," she explains to me. "and it counts a lot for intimidation." October, Gneiss, and Syren take the slingshots. I'm glad that October managed to get another weapon, and one that can be powered by simple stones found in the arena.

"That leaves the crossbow and the bow," Mason observes. He shoots a sideways look at Syren and I, and realization hits me as though I've run into a tree. Syren is the only Career that attempts long-distance weapons besides me. And, if Shyne's words can be trusted, I am better than her. If I do not claim the bow and the crossbow, Syren will.

A surprisingly strong well of protest rises in me at the thought. My head is spinning, and I remember Tide and Syren's attitudes to Raven only two nights ago. Syren had smirked, saying, "Look at the scrawny things District 7 has to offer this year," and Tide had pushed Raven into the elevator's glass wall. That was before they had seen me run. That was before they saw me throw. That was before they realized how useful I could be to them. It seems like years since that moment, like the Training Days have taken months to occur. I have heard that time flies when you get older, when you realize you will die soon. But my days are dragging.

Yet, even if years truly had passed since that night, how could I forget? How is it possible to remember how angry I had been on Raven's behalf; how he had tried to calm me down, but failed? How is it possible to forget how scared I know Raven is, behind his mask? How could I forget how they had enjoyed terrifying and haunting him - me - _us_?

"I want them." My words are determined, and my fists are clenched in my lap. I hope no one will notice how much I truly hate and love them at the same time. I still need them to believe that I'm one of them, even if part of me wants to laugh and stay with them forever, and the other, more Career-like side, wants to drive my knives through their throats. "I want the crossbow and the bow and arrows."

Syren's face is impassive as she nods in agreement with the others. She doesn't want to be my enemy. She wants to use me. She wants to have me right under her belt, where she can watch me and kill me when the going gets tough. I glance at Maze and Raven, and then to October. They are my real friends - they are the ones that I can trust.

But the Careers aren't bad people. They are just survivors. It is evident in the thick jaw of Tide, the quick eyes of Gneiss. They intend to make it home for the honor of winning the Games. It isn't just a test of survival for them. It is a test of worth. With a sinking heart, I realize that they have more to loose than anyone else in the Games.

**~~~BTCS~~~**

_You also got some info on the very passable instructors in this chapter via Paxton. I will probably give you more info on them later._

_The lighting targets for knives was actually in the movie. Want to see a cool example of what Fawn was rocking this chapter? Look up Hunger Games Training Scene and look for Clove throwing :)_

_Oh, and some good news. I am nearly complete with the plot line for this book! That was part of the delay, but it's good to know where I am heading. I'm debating adding another book to BTCS, but I know where I'm ending this one. We'll have to see how the ending flows, and if I'm bored with the few ideas I have for a new BTCS book._


	13. II DECISION

**PART II. PREPARING.  
CHAPTER 13. DECISION.**

_Merry Christmas! This is my Christmas gift to all of you - a long and good chapter. :) at least, that's my opinion. I hope you agree!_

_13 is an unlucky number, but nothing too horrible happens in this chapter. Nothing too horrible._

_Anyway, I'm starting to get tired of this training stuff, even though it's my favorite part of the pre-Games. So, here's to finishing up the training sessions! I am starting to plan the Interviews, which I typically dread because there's so many tributes. This time, I'm going to try and make it build upon the characters themselves. And the wonderful plot._

**~BTCS~**

The final compulsory excercise is more demanding than the previous three. We are to dash and leap across slabs of metal while avoiding being hit by the spears that Trainers throw at us. I do fairly well with this excercise, ducking and dodging the spears while leaping like a cat. I place sixth, my lowest placement. Mason, Tide, and Gneiss use brute strength and speed rather than agility to get themselves through, and take the first three spots. Luster and Syren also place ahead of me, and Shyne behind me. October is the lowest of the Careers at 8.

Even though they are no longer my allies, I pay close attention to Maze and Raven's performances. Raven makes a respectable performance, landing himself directly in the middle as always. Maze is easily as agile as me, but a lucky jab by a trainer disqualifies her, and her ranking is 11th. I try to make eye contact with both of them, to convey my situation, but their eyes both pass cooly over me.

We Careers assemble for the afternoon's individual training, our last chance to really learn something. The Careers have the same plan that my alliance did. We are to review tomorrow morning. "Where haven't you two been?" asked Tide. "We can go to those stations." It makes sense. They will have already been taught everything here, and have reviewed what they needed and showed off where they shined. October and I are the ones that need to learn, and they aren't about to let us go off on our own.

"We were saving the rest of the non-violent stations for now," October tells them. "That's Knots, Shelter, Weightlifting, and Fires."

"And Concealment," I add quickly.

"Well, lead us," Shyne motions at me and October, and I smile slightly at my red-haired ally. October nods to the Fire station, and we walk over to it in a comfortable pack. As we move through the stations, I notice the ease that exists between us all. Blight was right. Being a Career isn't the worst thing in the Hunger Games. As we go through the stations, I prove wonderful at Knots and Fires and exceptionally at Weightlifting, Shelter, and Concealment. I give an air of coolness to all tributes that aren't Careers. And, somewhere in the midst of it, I realize that I make a wonderful Career.

Tide pulls October and me aside at the Concealment station. There is real concern in his face as he crosses his arms and asks, "What are you going to tell Raven and Maze?"

I glance at October, the question catching me off guard. His face contracts with inner conflict. I feel it, too. I'm not sure whose side I am on anymore. I consider my options, doing my best to think strategically, and the answer hits me. "We'll tell them that we're not really with you. That we're just pretending so we can run off with them." October sends me a startled look. Initially, this was what I had intended to do - pretend and run off with my allies. Over the course of the day, however... I wonder if October is thinking the same thing.

Tide's frown deepens. "How will we know who you're telling the truth to, then?" He gives a valid point. The answer is obvious, though October looks frightened enough to soil his pants.

I lean in closer to him. "You'll just have to trust us." Tide leans away as though stung. Slowly, acception filters into his gaze. He nods to us both, and I can tell he is suppressing a snicker on October's behalf. Slowly, he turns and walks away. I call, "Are you going to tell the others?"

Tide glances over his shoulder, a smirk filling his face. "There's still only one victor," he reminds me with an air of ease, "I intend to know all of the secrets. I intend to win, even if it means killing all of my friends."

**~~BTCS~~**

The elevator is calm; quiet. Raven stands beside me with his hands pressed tightly to his sides, and refusing to look at me. I know that he is angry I joined the Careers - I can feel it boiling inside of him. I don't dare explain myself, though, with the presence of Hestia, Cole, Barley, and Rye in the elevator. The moment we step onto the 7th floor, and the doors close behind us, his anger explodes.

My district partner rounds on me, a scowl etched in his face. "What are you _doing,_ Fawn?!" he practically yells at me. Surprised despite myself in this change in personality, I stumble backwards. I have never seen Raven angry. Even when Tide and Syren taunted us, and pushed him, he wasn't angry.

"I ... I just ..." I stammer, struggling to regain my train of thought.

Raven advances on me. "Did you think that you could just take advantage of Maze and me? Did you think that you were better than us because you can run faster and throw knives better?"

"What?" Despite the situation, I am offended, and my face and posture must surely show it. "Raven, no! I would never - how could you ...?"

"Maze can climb faster than you and October," Raven rages. My back is against the wall now. There is nowhere else to retreat. "and you couldn't beat me in a wrestling match." He stops abruptly, as though realizing what he suggested - that he could kill me. That he may kill me.

My mouth is opening - to say what, I don't know - when Blight is suddenly there, pushing Raven away from me. Garnish is screaming at us from nearby, and Blight is speaking, but I can't focus on his words. My eyes are searching Raven's, trying to understand his transformation, trying to make him understand my own. The world around me falls silent, and I can't feel Blight's hands pushing me down the hall. His face collapses suddenly, his shoulders rolling forward and back slumping as all the anger washes from him. I'm thinking that he may cry when he disappears suddenly, as though he is a real bird.

Blight half pushes me into my room, shutting the door crisply behind him. The world comes rushing back to me, and I am now conscious of my mentor instructing me to sit down. I look at my mentor with empty eyes, stress returning to me with the world. I managed to forget my position while with the Careers, but I am now conscious of how much worse I have made it.

"Fawn, sit. You're going to fall over." There's a gentleness to Blight's voice, almost fatherly. It reminds me of my own father, spreading pine needles across the floor and laying down in them. I can nearly smell him - smell the pine, and the snow. Tears sting my eyes. I sit.

Blight takes the spot besides me, and stares at me a long moment before asking, "Fawn, what happened?" I glance at him, and it comes pouring out of me with the tears. I explain how we split up after the compulsory excercise, and how I went to the knives station to throw. I explain how after she saw me throw, Shyne cornered me and demanded an answer to the Career offer. I tell him how cornered I felt - feel - and how October and I had been forced to accept.

"Did you like it, then?" Blight interrupts me. "Did you enjoy being a Career?"

"Yes," I admit. The tears stop, and my mind leaves my father and despair, searching for words to describe the afternoon as a Career. "It was ... peaceful. Happy. Like I was accepting my destiny - whether it be to die or to win."

He nods, thoughtful, and I know he's thinking about Crimson, from his Games. "And what are you going to do?"

I close my eyes, thinking deeply. "I - that is, October and I, told Tide Playa that we would tell Raven and Maze that we would join them after the Bloodbath. We said it was a lie we would tell them. But I'm not sure if it is. I don't know whose side I'm on anymore." I look to him, hopeful that he will offer a solution.

"That's not a decision I can make for you," Blight pats my knee and I deflate a bit again. "and I'm afraid you don't have long to decide yourself. I'll need to know what you plan to do by tomorrow morning, before you leave for the last day of training sessions." I nod in agreement. I can't face the other tributes again without knowing.

Blight gets up, making his way to the door slowly. He turns abruptly, to offer me one last piece of advice: "Choose carefully, Fawn. Your decision may decide the fate of many lives, including yours." And then, he's gone.

**~~~BTCS~~~**

I go up to the roof, because I know it's the one place I can think clearly. conscious that almost all of other tributes have surely discovered its existence by know, I hide in the shadows of the trees, listening to the wind. The night air feels cool and clean, as though it is cleaning me of my doubt and worries, leaving me only with the truth. I suppose I've known my decision all along, in that moment when I said yes to Shyne, felt the power of being a Career, and quarreled with Raven. Here, in the clean air, it isn't hard at all to discover what I must do - what my heart is telling me.

I wait, keeping the entrance from the elevator in sight. The wind is the best part of the roof, I decide. It is the most lively thing I have seen in the Capitol since my arrival. I close my eyes and let it caress my face, whipping my hair into a tangled mess that would give Garnish heart failure.

I hear the elevator announce its arrival with a sharp ding, My eyes snap open to watch as he comes onto the roof. I keep quiet, eyes following him like a hawk as he slips into the shadows of the trees. He passes me without noticing me, and I stand silently and follow, a breath of wind in the night.

He stops in a shadow that casts itself over the edge of the building, and I know that he is staring downwards, at the people and their parties. I know that he is marveling at the largeness of a space bigger than he could ever have imagined. What is he thinking about the occurences of today? I wonder. What is he planning?

"I know you're there." his voice is loud - too loud - in the silent night.

I step out of the shadows for a brief second to cross to his side. "Was I breathing too loud? Did I make a wrong step?" So close to entering the arena, I want to know the flaws in my stalking.

"No," he says. "I just knew you'd be there."

"I knew you'd come up here," I tell him, softly.

He laughs slightly. "We know each other well, for two complete strangers." The comment has a sting, but it is true. We have only known each other a few short days. Yet, it seems like so much longer. I ask, "Have you made your decision?" and his breath stops.

October turns his face towards me. His orange hair is the softest shade I've ever seen it. His features, too, seem calm, and I wonder if I have that same appearance. "I have." A sudden, strong gust of wind knocks into us, and I shiver at the reminder. October and I may have chosen differently. We have to admit our choices to each other now, and trust the other to keep them secret. We may be enemies now.

"I've chosen Raven and Maze," I blurt, unable to contain myself any longer. "I feel like I'm not pretending when I'm with them. I feel safer with them."

"Why?" October asks, solemnly. "because you know that you're stronger than them and can kill them at any moment?"

Another sting. "What?" I ask. "No!" but I force myself to consider the comment anyway. Is that why I have chosen two weaker allies than six strong ones? Do I enjoy being the strongest person around, if just for my peace of mind? "What about you? Who have you chosen?" I can't breathe.

October looks at me for a long moment. "I've chosen you," he replies quietly. "I trust you to make the right choice more than I trust myself to. If you've decided that this is the right thing to do..."

"I have," I nod quickly.

"Then that's what we'll do." His tone is decisive, without regret, and I embrace him on a whim, whispering, "Thank you. Thank you so much, for not leaving me alone." He hesitates before embracing me back, and we stay like that for a long moment under the dark sky without stars.

**~~~~BTCS~~~~**

I'm not sure that Blight agrees with my decision when I tell it to him the following morning. He doesn't try to argue it out of me, either. He simply accepts it with a nod. We don't even discuss it. When Raven comes out, Blight instructs us on our morning session plans and our individual sessions with the Gamemakers. "Review your strengths," he tells us. "Fawn, that's long-range. Warm up the knives. Raven, that's hand-to-hand combat and wrestling. In the individual sessions, I want you to show your strengths last. First, show the Gamemakers that you've learned a lot. Be quick about it, but show them some plant knowledge, knots, and fire making. Survival skills are important in your training score." We both nod, careful not to look to each other, and for the first time, Blight sends us to training alone.

Once Raven and I are alone in the elevator, I know why. I am to tell him of my decision. Blight sent us early, so we wouldn't be interrupted. Even so, I know we don't have much time, so I turn to him and meet his eyes. "Raven, I'm really sorry about yesterday. They cornered me, and I didn't know what to do. I was scared they'd target me, so I -"

"Accepted," his eyes flash with slight anger again. "You left us because you were scared."

"No, I didn't really except!" I protest. "I just told them that." My district partner is staring at me now, and I take a deep breath to calm myself. "Listen, I met with October on the roof last night to make sure - and he agreed with me. We just have to pretend with the Careers a bit longer. After the bloodbath, we're to be alone with _ while the others go hunting. We'll escape then. If you're hiding nearby, or if you come back, we can find you, and then -"

Raven interrupts me, "How do I know that you're not lying to me. How do I know that you're not just saying that to make me come back and get slaughtered by the Careers?"

It takes me hearing this to realize how much I've hurt him by accepting the Careers' offer. My heart aches, but I have no other response for him besides the one I gave to Tide yesterday: "You're just going to have to trust me."

The elevator door opens and I turn away from my district partner, striding over to where Syren and Tide stand with pride. Tide gives me a knowing look, as if he knows what I was speaking to Raven about. I glance away from his dark features, uncomfortable, and to Syren's face instead. "What does Blight plan for you to do during your private session?" Syren asks me. It strikes me that she knows my mentor's name and speaks of him as though they are old friends.

"He wants me to use the long-range weapons and prove that I know some survival skills," I tell her.

Syren nods. "Just walk around like you know what you're doing. They'll send you away when they've seen enough, which is as soon as you look uncomfortable. Show them everything that you can." I nod again, thankful for the advice despite the fact that Syren and I have been knocking heads.

Luster and Shyne join us. I notice that Shyne's face has a thin layer of paint on it today. Clearly, her stylist thinks that it will be beneficial for the Gamemakers to think her lovely as well as deadly. I swallow. The knowledge of who I am picking makes me uncomfortable with the Careers. I push away the thought. I _am _a Career, even if I am a traitor as well. I watch as October abandons Maze and joins us, and give him a small smile.

Gneiss and Mason arrive just as Atala calls us to our half moons. Atala reminds us that there will be no compulsory excercise today, and the afternoon session will be reserved for the private sessions. Following our private sessions, she says, we are to report back to our mentors for instruction on the rest of the day. I see Gneiss smirking out of the corner of my eye, and know that she will not have any more instruction for the rest of the day - she has already been instructed on her strategy at the Interviews tomorrow.

That brings a sick thought. The day after tomorrow, we will be in the arena. Tributes will be dead, and I will be a traitor. The Careers will be out for my blood. And ... the thought is horrible ... it is very likely that I will be dead.

**~~~~~BTCS~~~~~**

I use the morning session to plan my private session. The Careers, having apparently decided that I'm not as important as preparing, leave me alone for the first time. I wander freely from station to station. Against Blight's advice, I decide to use the sword to show the Gamemakers that I'm not just a long-range fighter. I walk from station to station, practicing the order in my head and memorizing how to look purposeful. I plan to attend ten stations in all - four survival skills and six weapons.

At lunch, the Careers are louder than usual with laughter, with the exception of October and me. We aren't from Career districts, and have reason to be worried. The Gamemakers won't expect anything of us by the number on our sleeves. We have to prove ourselves. The Careers are practically guaranteed a seven, and they have been training their whole lives. They have no reason to fear the sessions, or the Games.

The other tributes don't touch the food before them. As I nervously eat, I marvel that the food has begun standard to me - normal. I don't stare at the vibrant colors and marvel at the strong taste and abundance. I simply eat, as I would at home. The thought of rabbit stew, which is standard fare back home, is a strange thought to me now.

Atala enters the lunchroom to remind us of the private sessions, as though we may have forgotten. "You will be called to the center by districts." she says. "Report quickly, as your time with the Gamemakers is limited." She wishes us all good luck, and returns to the Gamemaker's balcony. A strange, nervous silence is left in her wake. I swear that I hear Cabel Atom gulp, and I am sure that my fellow Careers can hear my heart pounding.

I know that, at home, the cameras leave the tributes for the first time in days to show interviews with mentors. My mother and sisters as well as everyone I know are probably watching the screen as Blight tells a strangely dressed reporter what Raven and my odds are. He will tell the reporters about my double alliance to spark interest in me. During the Interviews tomorrow, Ceaser will be eager to know all that I will tell him about this alliance, and I won't have to explain since Blight already has for me.

Luster's name is called, and he heads from the room with a cocky smile. The silence remains. The Careers, it seems, have subconsciously agreed that it is best to review their plans in their heads rather than laugh and joke. Minutes become seconds. I study the smooth and flawless surface of the table, just for something to focus on. I'm beginning to regret eating at all.

"Shyne Luxor," a cool female voice announces. Shyne pushes away her tray, wipes her face, and smooths her training outfit before giving us a curt goodbye and leaving us. I exchange a glance with October, and I can see the nervousness in his gaze as well. I shake my head, turning my face back to the table and my mind to my plan. I repeat the order to myself, determined not to forget anything.

One by one, the Careers leave until October and I are left alone. I look at him again, and he glances quickly away. I don't know what I expected - for us to have a heartfelt conversation about our loyalties with everyone watching, maybe. But he's just as worried as I am. Cabel enters the center, looking pale and ready to puke on the floor. I can feel my limbs locking up in fear. I won't be able to move from this spot when my time comes. I study Scarlett Wires, to enter next. Her hands are folded very tightly on the table. I remember her cleverness that I saw in her from the start. Will she show the Gamemakers mostly survival skills, or will she prove capable with some kind of weapon?

Ryder Wheel enters after Scarlett, looking as empty-faced as ever. Jet Rails straightens in her seat, looking determined and calm, and admiration wells up inside of me as she enters with her chin held high. A District 6 tribute has the same odds as a District 7 tribute - not very good odds, for either of us. She has her pride, and I have some skill, and who knows? - one of us may make it through this.

After Jet enters, my gaze finds Raven. He's to go in next. I can tell that he's trying to hide his terrified expression, but he is failing. I give him a supportive smile, but I'm not even sure that he can see me. His expression is empty, and hopeless. When the voice calls his name, he jumps and stands shakily. I try again to catch his eye as he walks out of the room, but his expression is fixed on the doors. I glance towards Maze, but she won't look in my direction. Has October explained our position to her yet?

Before I can ask him, though, the voice is calling out, "Fawn Dogwood." and I am standing steadily as though in a dream, walking towards the door. I vaguely notice that October is wishing me luck. I push open the doors, and a blast of cool air hits me. Goosbumps rise up on my arms. I'm not sure why it's cooler in here, but I appreciate the feel of cool air across my skin. I glance towards the balcony to find that all of the Gamemaker's eyes are upon me. A few have food beside them, but for the moment, I have their full attention.

The female voice announces, "Fawn Dogwood, District 7. Placed first in the running excercise. Placed fourth in the climbing excercise. Placed third in the hanging excercise. Placed sixth in the agility excercise." By the time that the voice has finished its announcement, I am in the middle of the room, at the place where Atala had us form our half moon circles. Atala instructs me to demonstrate my skills at several stations. I bow in the stiff manner of the Captiol, and walk to the station I had planned to do first - Bows.

There are several bows displayed, and I take the thinnest one. It is similar to the one I learned with on the first day of training. Taking a deep breath, I place a silver trimmed arrow on the bow and raise it to shoulder length. I close my eyes a moment, calming my heart, and loose the arrow. It lands just right of the center on a moving target. Quick as lightning, I loose another. This lands slightly to the left. The next lands on the center. Unable to hide I smile, I let four more go, and they all land beside each other, right on the center.

Panting, I lower the bow slowly, and glance at the Gamemakers. A few nod at me, and a few look thoughtful. Most are glancing at me between bites of food. I turn from them, and go to the edible plants station. A slight murmur rises from the Gamemakers - little grows in District 7. I chose this station so that I could show them that I learn quickly.

I know that my time is limited, and I work quickly as I sort nearly all of the models of plants by edible and poisonous. Then, without another glance to the Gamemakers, I move onto the Axes. I throw several different axes of many different sizes at targets, and then prove my strength and skill with it by swinging at the metal poles. When covered with a thin sheen of sweat, I throw my last axe. It beheads a target. I glance back up at the Gamemakers, who look impressed, but not surprised. Axes are the signature weapon of my district. Our seal even depicts two axes crossing a full grown oak tree.

I make a fire out of damp wood in thirty seconds flat, but I don't slow to see if the Gamemakers took note of this. I move to the Knots station and make several different snares to show that I can feed myself. Then, I demonstrate how to make a steady and good rope as well as several knots that are very hard to untie. I end this station with a noose, and leave it hanging eerily over the other knots.

The crossbows aren't my strong suit, but I decided to include them anyway. You never know what will be inside the arena, and I want the Gamemakers to know that I'll be capable no matter what they provide me with. After I hit the vital points of a target a few time, I grab the triangular sword I practiced with and spar with a few targets. I add a few spins, like I saw Syren do. When the targets around me are ruined, I straighten and glance at the Gamemakers. Again, they appear mildly interested in me as well as their meal.

I want very badly to shake my head at them, but I refrain, going instead to the camouflage station. I spend a few minutes camouflaging a bag to look like a forest under a canopy of oaks. When I finish, it is believable enough, so long as no one looks too closely. Then, I move to the Spears station. I display an acceptable show with the spears, though a nagging suspicion tells me that I could have preformed better.

The thought is forgotten, however, as I head with excitement to my final and most anticipated station, knives. The Gamemakers were watching me when I preformed earlier during the Training Sessions, but I now have the benefit of being the only tribute available to watch. I don't bother with the still targets this time. I walk over to the podium that Paxton used to make the clay birds shoot from the floor. I take a deep breath, studying the podium. No trainer moves to help me, and I'm glad. I want to prove my resourcefulness in this way as well.

I tap the smooth rock of the podium, and a clay bird shoots out. My hand flies to my knife belt, and the knife hits the bird directly in the eye. I glance back down at the podium, but the whizzing sound of another bird being released makes me loose another knife. Slowly, I back away from the podium to give myself maneuvering room. The birds begin shooting out, and I begin throwing. I duck out of the way of falling clay birds and roll around on the floor to get to the best aim at the birds.

I'm panting quickly, running out of knives. I snatch them from the fallen birds instead of my knife belt. This excercise is much harder than the one I participated in yesterday. I don't mind much, though. With the cool air on my skin, a thin layer of sweat covering me, a pant in my breath and a knife in my hand, everything seems right in the world.

When the clay birds stop appearing, I remain crouched for a long moment. Then I straighten slowly and turn to face the Gamemakers. Most of their faces are turned towards me, and they appear truly impressed now. I give them a deep bow, and Atala dismisses me.

**~~~~~~BTCS~~~~~~**

_Look up the District 7 seal - I actually looked at the official one for the description in this chapter. There's seals for all of the Districts and the Capitol. I may continue to mention them, maybe not. All the same, it's interesting to look at them._

_In Fawn's world, she lacks our vocabulary. In this chapter, an example is her use of the word targets. We would refer to them as dummies._

_Oh, I want to be very clear about something right now. There is no Fawn-October romance going on. Sorry, but Fawn isn't the type of person to forget the guy she left home like Katniss. Not a dig on Katniss, just pointing out their differences. Fawn just needs the reassurance of having someone that understands her in a stressful situation like this._

_Merry Christmas! I hope you enjoyed my present to you. Now, for your present to me! Haha, didn't see that one coming, did you? It's simple enough - don't worry. Just review, put the story on alert so you can continue reading, and maybe favorite me and my story :) THANKS AND MERRY CHRISTMAS!_


	14. II WAKING UP

**PART II. PREPARING.**  
**CHAPTER 14. WAKING UP.**

_Quick reminder: Scores are from 1 to 12, twelve the highest and nearly impossible. We pick up after the announcers would have reminded the audience this, so I figured I should put that out there. Um... in order to be fair to the tributes, I factored in their places in the compulsory exercises and determined their ranking among themselves that way. Then I dished out the scores as seemed right. So .. there is rhyme and reason to the scores. No real surprises, if you know what I mean._

_I introduce the term 'outlying district' in this chapter. I believe that it was Crane who mentioned it during the movie - something about Katniss volunteering ... 'a volunteer from an outlying district - you can't ignore that.' Something like that. Anyway, I needed a term for those districts, so I remembered it all of a sudden, and now it's being put to use._

_The scene with Raven and Fawn is based on Estoma's review for the last chapter. She brought up a valid point that I planned to correct in the arena before her review, but I figured I might as well point it out now. Fawn does have flaws. I just need to show them better._

**~BTCS~**

"Luster Diamond," Lavinia announces. I hold my breath as Luster's picture floats into focus behind Lavinia. The scores of the Careers often reflect the excitement of the Games that year. And the scores reflect the potential of the tributes, obviously. "8." No one in the room - Blight, the stylists, the prep teams (excluding Cinna, who is on screen), Garnish, Raven or I - react. My heart is beating, and I wish that I was from District 1 if only to stop the suspense.

"Shyne Luxor." Cinna shoots a brilliant smile at the camera. Shyne's beautiful face shimmers into focus. "10." I let out a slight breath. Tens are very high, normally the highest number achieved. Tributes who score 8 and up are most likely to win.

"Mason Flint." A teasing smile is sent to the obviously breathless audience, and then Lavinia's high soprano announces, "8." A slight frown creases my face. I would have expected at least a nine for Mason, with his obviously superior strength.

"Gneiss Mount." I note that Cinna really does look horrible in lavender - it clashes with his skin horribly. I shake the thought away quickly, not knowing where it had come from. Strange thoughts occur to people under stress, my mother had told me once. "9." I glance at Blight, who looks thoughtful but not surprised by this newest score. Shyne has the highest score.

"Chip Drive." The boy with the chubby face appears. I realize that he is probably the tribute I know the least about. I study his face for a moment, and decide to keep it that way. I know too much. "3."

"Pixel Flash." The intelligent District 3 tribute appears. "4." I consider her face for a moment, deciding that the score was appropriate. Scarlett and Pixel were both intelligent, but Scarlett's intelligence was much more resourceful than Pixel's. Pixel, by my guess, had worked in the designing industry, and never had to be resourceful. Scarlett was probably another of the many that had to be tricky to secure the next meal.

"Tide Playa. 10." I let in a deep breath, slow and steady. The Gamemakers have given two tens this year. "They are expecting an exciting Game, then," Raven mutters. I can hear him from across the room.

"Syren Seeh." I watch as Syren's tan face, framed by almost invisible black hair upon the background, appears. "9." There are no comments from the room this time. A nine is a normal, respectable score for a Career. I wonder how the District 4 mentors are reacting right now. Is their winner from the past year, Annie Cresta, laughing and cheering on her successor?

"Cabel Atom." A pang hits my heart as the small redheaded boy's picture appears. No one that young should ever be put in this situation. For a moment, I don't feel any self pity - I feel sorry for Cabel instead. "3." Typically, the scores go no lower than 3s. If you receive a 2 or a 1, you are considered to be completely useless. Your death may not even make a full sentence in the records.

"Scarlett Wires." The girl that I so admire for her resourcefulness and quick mind appears. "7." I smile slightly. A 7 is an exciting score for a non-Career district, or an 'outlying district,' as the districts beyond four are often nicknamed.

"Ryder Wheel." Ryder appears, his long black hair drawn neatly into a low poneytail as normal. "5." I'm not surprised, though a look at Blight's face states that he is. As far as I can see, Ryder has always been in the middle of the tributes, a bit lower than average, maybe.

"Jet Rails." Jet and her stubborn expression appear. "6." This doesn't surprise me either. The Gamemakers wouldn't see her real worth - her determination. They'll see it tomorrow night at the interviews, though, as will the rest of Panem. Her mentor would have to be mad not to feature it in her preparations. _Well, _I reflect grimly, _he may very well be mad._

"Raven Carpenter." My breath catches and I glance towards Raven, missing the moment that his face appears behind Lavinia and Cinna. I can't breathe or look away from his face until Lavinia trills, "6."

"Ooooh!" Garnish gasps. "Ooooh! Raven, Raven Raven!" her voice escalates to a high squeal. "You did it! You placed in the upper percentile!" The prep teams chatter excitedly amongst themselves.

Raven shakes off the praise. "I'm still in the middle," he tells her, but his expression is pleased.

"Sixes are nothing to ignore," Tigris purrs. Raven's eyes dilate slightly as my stylist speaks to him, but his posture remains normal. "the Gamemakers can't measure every aspect of a tribute during the private sessions. Intuition is important too, my boy, and you have a very high one at that."

"Thanks," Raven whispers, breathless with pride.

Blight simply reaches over to clasp Raven's knee. "Good job." And I know that he means, you did the best you could do, and there's nothing more to ask for.

"Hush, hush!" Garnish shrieks. "They're about to announce your scores, Fawn!" Now that the moment has come, I don't want Cinna to say the score. I watch as his eyes scan the paper. I am of special importance to him. I have to die, or he'll be stuck in this job for the remainder of my life. His voice is just as jolly and suspenseful, however, as he announces what really must hurt him inside, "10."

I can feel my eyes dilate just like Raven's did moments before. The world reverses time, and I am watching Cinna say the number again. I'm watching his lips forming the word when Garnish's shriek disrupts my dream. "Ten!" she shrieks. "Ten! Fawn, you're tied for the highest score!" The prep teams are nearly wetting themselves with excitement, though I notice that Portia's cheers are halfhearted. _I need to talk with her, _I think, _and Cinna, too. Tomorrow, before I go into the arena._

Blight beams at me. "_Great _job," he says. I reflect that he hasn't had a tribute with as good of odds as me in a long while. Is he hoping to bring home a victor instead of two caskets? I'm sure Blight didn't mean anything by it, but I can see Raven deflate at the words out of the corner of my eye.

Tigris says nothing to me. She merely winks. With a slight swing of he tail, she disappears. I assume that she only planned to stay long enough to see my score. She's been absent practically since the parade, working on my gown for the Interviews. Portia disappears with her. Raven glances at me and offers a tentative smile - the first given since I became a Career. I beam in response, relieved to know the score and excited that it was such a good one.

We nearly miss Thread Coil's score - I catch a glimpse of his 5 as it fades away. Just like always, he is in the middle of the tributes, and right beside his ally, Ryder Wheel. "Cotton Finch." Cinna announces. "2." My heart aches for the soft faced girl, but what did I really expect? There can only be one I really think that Cotton had any chance?

"Barley Harvester." the young face appears, and Lavinia announces, "3." My heart aches, loosing all of its selfish pride for its own success. These two will most certainly be dead in two days. I probably in a week. What did a number matter, really? I push it away, trying to remember the feeling of triumph, but not finding it.

"Rye Brown. 8." Rye is a serious contender. I realized that from the first moment I saw her face, and I still believe it. It isn't hard to image her face looming above mine as she raises a scythe to kill me. The score is apropriate.

"Grant Farmer." Like Rye, I believed from the beginning that Grant had a chance of winning. With his thick build, it is obvious of his strength. The Gamemakers must have seen it, too, because Lavinia announces, "7."

"Angela Herder." Angela's red face, framed by white-blond hair, appears. "4." I am surprised. She must have learned something during the free training time.

"October Harvest." I amuse myself by imagining the 11th floor as October's name is announced. A ridiculously dressed escort is literally biting her nails. Seeder and Chaff, October and Maze's mentors, study Lavinia's face. Maze shoots a sideways, nervous glance at her district partner, and October leans forward slightly in his seat. His face holds a slightly quizzical expression as he considers his odds and waits. "9." A moment of shocked silence passes and then they are jumping up, shrieking, and October allows himself a wide smile - one that reaches his eyes.

"Maze Fields." I hold my breath as Maze's pleated hair appears before me, on the seventh floor. Her face is unsmiling - so different from the way I am accustomed to seeing it. Maze proved her worth during the exercises, despite the fact that she is from the second poorest district; despite the fact that she wasn't good enough to receive a Career invite as October was. "8." On the 11th floor, the District 11 team is surely cheering. Maze is blushing, pushing away their compliments but allowing a small bit of hope to burn in her. I smile. Two of my allies placed nearly as high as me, and Raven managed in the middle.

"Cole Miner." Cole's hard face appears. "4." After the high scores of District 11, it is saddening to be reminded of the certain death awaiting the two District 12 tributes. In my mind, the District 11 team's faces harden once more.

"And finally," Cinna announces, "Hestia Flamel. 4."

Before I have time to reflect much on this, Blight has turned the screen off and is studying Raven and I. I feel the atmosphere shift immediately, and sit a little straighter. "You both did a good job with training," Blight tells us with a slight smile. "I want you to remember everything you've learned, because you'll need it. Right now, though, the focus needs to be on the Interviews tomorrow. Tomorrow will focus on presentation. Clio and Tigris have designed your outfits, and will spend tonight and tomorrow morning prepping them. The prep teams will spend time prepping you. They will give you an appearance, and Garnish will teach you how to sell it."

There's one person he hasn't mentioned in this plan. "What about you?" I ask, raising a single eyebrow.

Blight smiles slightly. "I will teach you to make you memorable." He lets that sink in. "For now, we need to decide on your strategies - your angles, I mean to say. How are we to present each of you?" He is not speaking to Raven and I anymore. He addresses the team, specifically Clio. I wish suddenly that Tigris hadn't rushed off. I want her here for this - I want her support.

"I think that Raven could pass for likeable," Clio suggests. Then, realizing the harshness of her words, she quickly says, "Not that you're not likeable, Raven. Of course, you're one of the most likable tribute I have been a stylist for. I just meant that the audience would think you likeable if we tried to make them. You know how different they are from you ..." She trails off, knowing that it is too late to correct her mistake.

Blight ignores the attempts, his chin jutting out slightly as he considers the suggestion. Raven glances at me, uncomfortable, and I shoot him an encouraging smile. I will soon be the focus of their stares. "Yes, I think likable will do for you, Raven. We will have to try it out tomorrow."

Clio sends me a smile. "You, however, are an easy one. Blight has already introduced the idea of your double alliance to the media. Ceaser is bound to ask you about it. All you have to do is be mysterious about it, so that the audience will be intrigued and eager to watch how you deal with it."

"Should I be mysterious on all other topics, too?" I ask. In my experience of watching the Interviews, the tributes that played mysterious rarely got sponsors because the audience learns so little about them. The Capitol likes tributes that they can relate to - tributes they can cheer for. Intriguing double alliance or not, I need allies and if they know nothing about me, I am unlikely to receive them.

"No," Blight says quickly, likely following my train of thought. "I want you to be understandable, someone a person could go to for comfort and advice on hard topics. This double alliance thing has put you in a difficult position, I want you to say. But don't show any more affection for Raven, October, and Maze than you do for the Careers. In fact, it's probably best that you don't weigh the options in front of Ceaser at all." I nod, trying to remember all of this.

Blight studies me, and then Raven. "Go to bed," he finally says. "Try to sleep well. You won't be able to tomorrow night."

**~~BTCS~~**

**It proves that I am unable to sleep tonight, as well. I sit before the screen for a long while, listening to the commentators contemplating the odds of the tributes once more. I see more lavender than I can bear, and think longingly of District 7, where such an unnatural color is never found.**

**A sharp knock comes from the door. I start, sitting up quickly, and glance towards the door. Is it Blight again, come to discuss tomorrow's events, despite his advice to get some sleep? I move to the door and open it without hesitation, an eyebrow raised slightly.**

**Raven stands in the hall hesitantly. "Um, hello," he tells me.**

**"Hi," I respond, surprised. What does Raven want with me? I'd assumed that he'd dutifully went to sleep, as Blight had instructed.**

**"Can I come in?" Raven asks, motioning towards the room.**

**I blink, scolding myself internally. "Oh, yeah. Of course." I step aside to allow Raven entrance to the room. He walks in slowly, looking around. I close the door softly behind him, praying that Blight or Garnish will not come to tell us to go to bed. "Sit," I tell him, and he sits on the sofa placed before the screen I was watching moments before. It is still on, and I quickly tell the room, "Turn it off." The screen fades to black immediately.**

**I sit down beside Raven, looking at my district partner out of the corner of my eye. I wait for him to speak, running my hand up and down the smooth couch as I wait. Raven sits perfectly still, staring at the space that had been occupied by lavender-colored people moments before. **

**"I'm sorry," he said suddenly. "For disturbing you, I mean. I just – I needed to ask you a question." He hesitates another long moment, and I glance at him. "I wanted to know… how do you do it?"**

**My hand stops stroking the couch. I fall still and look away from him, thoughts whirling like wind on the roof. "What do you mean?"**

**Raven hesitates, appearing torn. I resist the urge to reach out and touch his arm – to comfort him, when I see he is conflicted. "How are you so … perfect at everything you do?"**

**"Perfect?" I shake my head. "No one is perfect, Raven." It is one of the things we learn first in our short, ****sparse**** education that we receive in District 7.**

**"I know," he says, shaking his head. "but … everything that you tried in Training, you were great at. It's no wonder the Careers sought you out – you're amazing, Fawn. Just as near perfect in everything that you try you could be. What I don't understand," he throws his hands up. "is how you do it."**

**I stop to consider his words. I have always, naturally picked up on things quickly. My mother always said that I was the earliest walker and talker that she had ever seen. "That's not completely true," I tell him. "I wasn't any good at fishing or hammock making. I wasn't any good at wrestling or hand-to-hand combat, either."**

**"That's not true," he said. "you may not have been the best at them, but you learned to manage so quickly." He shakes his head again. "That's what they're looking for, you know. They don't want a flawed victor. They want ones that they can relate to – perfect ones that make them feel proud of Panem. The Gamemakers want you to win."**

**I catch my breath, glancing around the room quickly. "Raven!" what he just said was near treason. The Hunger Games are supposed to be completely based on survival odds. Saying that the Gamemakers had favorites is a shocking proposal that may very well end in his death by Capitol trap in the arena. "Raven, hush! There are cameras everywhere! What if someone heard…?"**

**Raven appears unafraid at this. "I'm as good as dead now, Fawn. You know that. I'm not Career material. I'm not a favorite of the Gamemakers" I let out a hiss to quiet him at this, "or of the Capitol citizens. I won't be receiving any gifts. No one will want to sponsor me."**

**My heart sinks again. This time, I do reach out and put my hand on his arm. "Raven, you can't give up on yourself like that. Anyone can win the Games! Who's to say that it won't be you with the victor crown?"**

**Raven looks up at me, and I think I see pity in his eyes. "You've forgotten where we are, Fawn. You've forgotten that I will be dead in two days, as well as the other tributes like me. Barley and Cabel are young – do you really think that they will be able to escape from you and the Careers?" I flinch as a vision of Cabel bleeding in the grass, crying as he dies, comes to me. I am standing over him, knife raised, ready to strike… The likelihood that this will be reality in two days is only too likely.**

**Raven is right. I have forced myself to forget too much. I may only have today and tomorrow to live. River's face, his sparkling green eyes, floats before me, in the screen where the reporters appear. My chest feels hollow. How unfair it is – that he can see me every waking moment, and I will never see him again. I wish for one last moment with him – one last moment to convince him to forget me once I've gone, to find another girl. The thought of him old and lonely is almost as painful as the thought of ****losing**** him.**

**The Mist Troop convinced me to try to win, in my goodbyes. They gave me a wonderful vision of returning home wealthy, living with River, and really having a house filled with green-eyed children. I don't think that I am ready to give up that dream yet, but I can now see the flaws in it. Web warned me: families of victors are made examples. Whether I win or die, River may not live to be part of that family. My sisters may be harmed, or my poor mother. If my children are born, they will be in jeopardy of being Reaped. How the Capitol would love that – torturing my children to remind me who is in charge.**

**I have been living in that fantasy of winning for too long. I need to wake up, so that I will die in myself, and not some dream that I have deluded myself into believing is real. I turn back to Raven. "I … thank you. You're right. I did forget. I tried so hard to… leave this place, to make it somewhere – anywhere else. I succeeded. Thank you so much. I would have died like that, if you hadn't ****woke**** me up."**

**Raven nods in response, and I lower my head again, thinking. Aria and Creta's faces float in my mind's eye, laughing, calling my Sparrow, begging me to sing. A smile touches my face. They are watching reporters now, recaps of the Training Sessions, and past Games highlights. I remember the screen in Redwood's square. One panel is dedicated to the female tribute of the year – me. The next is devoted to the male tribute – Raven. And the third shows a variety of things. During the pre-Game, it shows past Games, highlights of other tributes, and commentators speculating odds. The sound for each is projected in different parts of the square, so that if you want to hear what is being say, you have to move to a certain part of the square.**

**My family probably doesn't leave the square but to eat and sleep. In the past years, some family members have fallen asleep in the square. Friends of the family have sympathetically carried them to their beds. River may be one of those. His brother Tyrone, is probably the one carrying him home. Lily gives him food, forcing him to eat. The child in her stomach grows each and every day. By the end of the Games, they will have lost me, and gained a child. Maybe, I think, if she is a female, they will name her Fawn. I find this thought comforting.**

**Does the troop keep watch over the screen? Do they monitor my progress, cheering me on from my far away home? "I miss them," I realize aloud. "I miss them so much."**

**Raven nods in agreement. "I know. I miss them, too." I don't know any of his friends and family, and he doesn't know any of mine, but we both feel compassion for each other's losses. Raven asks timidly, as though afraid he is overstepping a boundary, "Have you written your letters yet?"**

**"Letters?" I raise my eyebrows at him.**

**"Yeah, the letter we are allowed to write to our friends and family. The Capitol delivers them with our bodies, in case we …" He gulps, paling slightly. He continues quickly, "We are encouraged to write them. I'm surprised that you haven't heard of them."**

**I shake my head. "I haven't." I pause, thinking of what I would write to my friends and family. I think of what comfort I would be able to give them. "I think I'll take advantage and write some, though. Are there any limits to how many we can write?"**

**"Not that I know of." Raven answers. I nod, not knowing how to respond. I have one more try to convince River to love someone else. I have this one chance to make him understand me, thanks to Raven.**

**I turn and embrace my district partner. He stiffens, surprised. "Thank you," I tell him. "You've comforted me greatly." He softens, wrapping his arms around me, too. I can tell that he is gratified by my words, but I haven't taken away his worry for his own life. "I'll help you, in the arena," I tell him. "We're allies. It's my job. I won't let you die."**

**I know that he doubts my words, but he doesn't voice these doubts. His arms tighten around me, and I think that I feel the wetness of tears rolling down my back.**

**~~~BTCS~~~**

"Sit taller!" Garnish snaps. Biting back a sigh, I do as Garnish instructs and glance at Raven. There is laughter in my ally's gaze. It would appear that we have found something that I am truly horrible at.

"Smile!" Garnish instructs. I glance back at Garnish and shoot her the most horrible smile I know. I blame the prep team for my bad mood. They woke me up at three o'clock, a full two hours after I managed to fall asleep. They continued their painful tricks to make me beautiful to the Capitol, laughing and chattering about how wonderful the Game are as they did so.

I tried to bite my tongue like I had before the parade. It is harder to, though, now that I am not pretending that the Games are what they aren't. It is hard not to feel contempt for those that don't understand, like these two. I was doing well at tuning them out until Cinna found my letters.

"Oh, you have a sweetheart back home!" Cinna laughed. "River Arbre is his name," he informed eager Portia, while scanning the page. "How sweet! Listen to this, Portia! 'I miss you so much, sweet, but you can't miss me. I know you refused the last time we spoke, but you must find someone else. The thought of you alone is more than I can bear.'"

Anger boiled in me, and I splashed out of the bath angrily. Snatching up the papers from Cinna, I cried, "Don't you dare tell anyone about that, do you hear me? Don't you dare talk about it on your silly show! You have no idea what I'm losing for your entertainment!" My voice dropped to a deadly octave. "I know you are waiting for me to die – both of you. I know what my death means to you and your employment."

Cinna's eyes grew wider, but he didn't contradict my words.

"I may very well be dead tomorrow," I told him. "and you may very well be a stylist next year. But at least respect me and my life while I am alive."

Cinna appears hurt. "Of course I respect you. Protia does, too. Our promotion complicates the situation, that is all. We would be thrilled if you won." Portia makes noises of agreement, but I can detect the note in their voices that speaks other stories.

"Going through my personal belongings and reading them out loud is disrespecting me and my life." I wave the papers for effect, and fall silent. Tigris entered the room, attracted surely by the sudden noise. She took one look at my expression and the papers in my wet fist, and dismissed Cinna and Portia. She finished the rest of my prepping herself.

Now I am sitting in a long stiff gown, sitting perfectly straight and with a dazzling smile. Blight asks me a number of questions and I am to answer them. Blight critiques my words. Garnish complains of my facial expressions as I say the words, my posture, and where I choose to insert smiles. She also complains that I, as well as Raven, use our hands too much as we speak. It is something that I have noticed to be different between the Capitol and District 7. In District 7, we are very expressive with our hands, and in the Capitol, hands are preferred to be held stiffly at the sides during conversation.

"So, Fawn, is there any special boy back home?" Blight asks.

I smile slightly. "No, Ceaser, there is not."

"That's a lie." Cinna has been sitting in the corner silently, barely looking at me, for the entire session. Everyone looks at him in surprise as he speaks. "She does have a boy – River Arbre. I think they were courting when she was Reaped."

The eyes turn to me instead of Cinna, and my face turns bright red with anger and embarrassment. "Cinna! I told you not to tell!" I start to get up, my hands clenched in fists, but Raven quickly restrains me in the chair.

"You can't fight!" he whispers quickly to me. "No one can fight tributes, and tributes can't fight anyone! It's in the rules!" I relax slightly, so that he lets go of me, but my fists remain curled into fists.

Cinna glances at me, looking ashamed. "I shouldn't have read the letter," he tells me. "Tigris explained it to me. I understand now."

"Then why would you –" I start, but Cinna interrupts me.

"What I don't understand, though, is why you would risk not making the best impression you could." He pauses, and I don't speak. "Fawn, we want to know about you. We want to be able to understand you. The more we know about you, the less we'll want you to die. You'll get more sponsors. Why won't you tell us about River?"

The room is dead silent. I know why: I don't want the Capitol to know he exists. I don't want to risk him being made an example. I even have planned to enclose River's letter in my mother's, in an effort to conceal his existence even more. But I can't say that now, not when there are so many ears, and the cameras are watching. "I want him to forget me," I say quietly. "You read the letter, Cinna. I want him to move on. The Capitol won't let him, not if they knew we were courting."

It appears that I have said the right thing. Blight is nodding thoughtfully, and Garnish has her lips pressed tightly together. The morning's events appear to have been too much for Portia, who bursts into tears and hurries off. Tigris gives me a funny look, like she is amused, and walks from the room after Portia. What did she say to Cinna? I think, what made him understand?

"Posture!" snaps Garnish. I have been slouching as I thought. I sit quickly, and shoot her a dazzling smile. Blight asks the question, and I respond, "My best weapon is knives, but I don't limit myself to them. I am a Career, after all!" I laugh, and Garnish mutters something indistinct. "Well, sort of, anyway."

**~~~~BTCS~~~~**

Tigris works silently beside me. I watch her carefully out of the corner of my eye. I am still not accustomed to the way she has re-designed herself. If I let my attention waver for an instant, I can believe that she is a Capitol mutt about to tear me to pieces. I think that something about her has changed since I first met her – like she has made herself more feline-like.

When I think of how it would feel to lose Creta or Aria, I cannot blame Tigris for her actions. To lose a child and a spouse and be left with nothing but one's job would be more than most could bear. Many would resort to suicide. Tigris has demonstrated her strength in a strange way. Many aren't able to see it – I was not, not at first. I think I understand now.

Tigris smiles as she works. I wonder if she loses thoughts of Moira and her husband as she works, as I lose all worries as I throw knives. Jealousy rises suddenly in me. I wish that I had a way to lose myself that was not so violent – that didn't risk lives.

"I am almost done," Tigris purrs, bringing me from my trance. I again attempt to look at what she is making, but she blocks my view again. She presses a button and Cinna and Portia enter moments later. They both avoid looking at me, as though still ashamed of Cinna's earlier actions. Nervousness for the Interviews has taken away all of my anger towards them, and I am gladdened that they are humbler, now.

The entrance of Cinna and Portia signals that the Interviews are to begin soon. I fight the squirming feeling in my chest as they move me to the mirror, making slight adjustments to my eyebrows and nails as they do. They instruct me to close my eyes as they slip the dress over my head. The inside is smooth and comfortable, just like the inside of all of Tigris's outfits. The shoes are placed on my feet. I stand on them, still slightly unsteady. I am not good at navigating heels. Two heavy objects are hung from my ears, which Tigris put holes into this morning. A chord is attached around my neck, and something small and delicate is placed on my head.

They make more adjustments. A hand takes a warm iron to my hair, making it curl once more. Another smears something onto my face and arms. I can feel that the sleeves cut off just above my elbow, and move easier than the gown I wore earlier. I realize that Tigris was making adjustments for my comfort.

The hands stop momentarily, and I can feel their eyes on me, assessing me. It makes me uneasy, and I am tempted to open my eyes just to see how they are looking at me. But I don't have the chance, because Tigris says, "Fawn, you can look now."

I open my eyes, eager. The sight in the mirror before me makes me stumble back. Portia catches my arm, saving me from a fall. I can't tear my gaze from the mirror to thank her.

I am in the dark blue color that Garnish said looked good on me. It is the color that Portia told me she would request for my Interview gown. Apparently, Tigris has granted this wish. The color fades to a black around the edges. It reaches the floor, and the gown itself is very plain, which suits me well. The heels give me extra height, which is attractive for me. My eyes are done with dark liner and my face has been colored darker than it normally is.

The skirt reminds me a little of Riccy's dress. It is just as long, and has an excess of cloth. This skirt isn't gathered at the bottom, though. It falls sleek and shiny, like water, to my feet.

The amazing part of the gown, however, is something completely different. It is a necklace that I think I recognize immediately, but I think again when I see that it is made of metal. It is the same simple design of the necklace that Jessica made me – the necklace that is my token. However, it is made of metal, and the edges are still sharp and unrounded.

A small tiara rests on my head. It is simply designed as well, with the star-moon design from my necklace also on it. My hair around it appears darker than normal, like my skin. It is done in messy, large curls that stand out against the delicate tiara.

I stand up slightly taller, moving away from the support of Portia's arm, and the light that is reflected by the necklace and tiara is dazzling. I move my arm slowly, to touch the necklace, and see that my arm is bathed in sparkling and shining oil, so that I look as though covered in stardust.

_Stardust. _I glance back at the outfit – the black fading to royal blue, the darkness of my features. "I am the starry sky," I realize aloud.

"Blight showed me your token," Over my shoulder, Tigris is nodding. "It immediately struck me as beautiful, but simple. I knew that I wanted to use it for your Interview outfit."

Portia nods, beaming. All tension is forgotten as she gazes at the amazing outfit she helped make. Everyone in Panem will see it tonight. It must be gratifying to her. "She got rid of the outfit she had intended using. It was a forest green, and shorter. It would have been lovely, too, of course."

Tears are welling in my eyes. They don't understand the importance of the sky to people from District 7. I am a star. My hands travel to the tiara, so delicate and beautiful. There are two tales to explain where we go when we die. Some say that we become trees, and provide our offspring with a livelihood. Others say we go to the heavens, to watch over our people. I know that my mother believes the tale saying we become trees to be accurate, but I have always believed that I will rest in the heavens.

I am a star.

I am dead.

**~~~~~BTCS~~~~~**

_So, this chapter was entitled Waking Up for two reasons. Fawn woke up from the dream she had put herself in, and Cinna woke up from the dream he had led his whole life. It's not all about Fawn, guys! Haha, Cinna … we are almost to a very "fun" time for him._

_I chose not to elaborate much on the actual pre-Interviews. They were never much interesting to me, and you know what happens then, anyway. I had nothing to change from Katniss's account. So, instead, I thought the scene where Cinna speaks out again even after Fawn told him off would be important for character building. If you hadn't known who Cinna was, it would really have set him apart from Fawn's original description of prep teams. Cinna is special. 3_

_Please review! I love Estoma and all, but I need more feedback than hers!_


	15. II INTERVIEWS

**PART II. PREPARING.  
CHAPTER 15. INTERVIEWS.**

_This is mainly straightforward – the Interviews. I tried to include lots of details about the tributes, without things getting too boring. Sorry if I didn't succeed with that. I'd suggest paying close attention to the names of some of the tributes' siblings… you may recognize a few of them…_

**~BTCS~**

For a moment, I cannot breathe. It's as if I have forgotten how, or as if Gneiss sat upon my chest, pushing my insides together and making me feel red. I stand alone, on a small metal disk below the stage. The air is chilly around me, as the stage is erected before the Training Center for the night. There is a wall on all sides of me, and the door through which I entered has melted into the wall. Claustrophobia wells inside of me, and I tell myself that I'm just nervous.

Above me, Caesar's voice booms, "Welcome, ladies and gentlemen, to the Interviews of the 70th Hunger Games!" The crowd, which has been loud, like a tracker jacker nest, flares suddenly as nests do when disturbed. "This is sure to be an exciting Hunger Games," Caesar continues, still clearly heard over the noise. "and I would like to wish you a Happy Hunger Games!" The crowd roars in approval, and I can picture Caesar's snarling grin at their approval.

"Allow me to introduce," the crowd goes quieter, waiting for the moment when the tributes appear on the stage. "Miss Shyne Luxor!" The crowd claps and hollers for a long moment, quieting long enough for Caesar to announce, "Mr. Luster Diamond!" Shyne is sitting now, and Luster is standing before the audience. My stomach turns. My name would be called soon, as the plate lifted me up, into an arena of its own kind.

"Gneiss Mount!" I try not to think about the fact that I will momentarily be before the entire country. "Mason Flint!" I straighten my tiara, and am momentarily distracted by the flash of color from my stardust-covered arms. "Pixel Flash!" How can I go out there? Everyone in the world will be watching me, judging me. "Chip Drive!" Any mistake I make will be seen forever. Not to mention that my life is in the balance. "Syren Seeh!"

I smooth my smooth skirt, thinking of my family, my troop, and River. "Tide Playa!" I will be strong for them. "Scarlett Wires!" I won't let them see a distraught side of me – a side of me that won't be coming back. "Cabel Atom!"  
Maybe that's why I am able to walk around clearly now. Maybe Raven's helping me accept my death is the only reason I'm able to have the courage to stand on this plate now. "Jet Rails!"

Soon, now, I think. The plate begins to lift me up as Caesar's voice booms, "Ryder Wheel." I'm taking a deep breath, standing up straight like Garnish taught me. The plate rises slowly, steadily, and I have no doubt that it is very supporting, even though it is powered by air pressure.

The light and noise hit me at the same moment. I thought the noise was loud from my waiting place, but now I am deafened momentarily. The light blinds me, and my eyes take a few moments to adjust. I smile pleasantly as I wait for them to do so. Caesar's face comes into focus first. He extends his hand to me, and I smile wider, accepting it as Garnish taught me to do. "Fawn Dogwood!" Caesar's voice doesn't sound loud from where I stand, but it echoes around the square nonetheless.

The audience screams for me, and I smile and wave at them for a few brief moments before Caesar sends me in the direction of Ryder, who is dressed in a headdress that would only be considered nice by Capitol standards. I sit down in the seat beside his (the seats are about two feet apart) as Raven appears. I smile slightly at my district partner's appearance. He looks nice in a forest green shirt, with tattoos of green and black running around his dark skin. As he sits, we exchange brief smiles, and return out attention to the entering tributes.

Cotton looks delicate in a dress of white clouds. Thread wears a bright purple shirt, with matching eyeliner. Rye is dangerous in a dress dark as night. The stylists have surely done their job, I think, as I watch Barley enter. The few muscles he has are shown off well in his clothing.

After Hestia enters in a blood red gown, Caesar motions for the audience to quiet, as he stands before the Interview chairs. "Now, I think that you are all quite willing to listen to the tributes and to hear what they have to tell you. Many of you in the crowd are ready to place bets on tributes tonight. I will not make you wait any longer. It is my pleasure –" the crowd's screams raised up again. "to introduce … Miss Shyne Luxor!"

Shyne was dressed in a tight white gown that showed off her curves well, and faded to a light green near the bottom. She shook hands with Caesar, and they sat down. On one of the screens throughout the square, a timer appeared, counting down the seconds of Shyne's interview. Each tribute is given three minutes, making the Interviews a very faced paced part of the pre-Games.

"Let me say, Miss Luxor, you are looking rather beautiful tonight. Would you like to say anything about your stylist?"

Shyne gives a practiced, winning smile. "It's absolutely lovely, isn't it? My stylist, Quiantia, is a genius." A screen turns its attention to a woman in the crowd with particularly horrendous makeup. The crowd applauds Shyne's statement, and Caesar allows it for a moment before hushing them.

"What is it, Shyne, which you admire most about the Capitol?"

"The people," Shyne answers sweetly. "I have never met such bright, happy, and friendly people. Everyone here has been so kind to me, just like I am family. And the clothes. So many colors – everywhere! It's much better than the cameras!"

Caesar chuckles, as the crowd smiles happily. They enjoy being praised, of course. Shyne is playing them. "How are we different from District 1? There must be some differences. Tell us what you miss most about your home."

Shyne nods quickly. "Oh, yes. There are many differences. We don't have such tall buildings, or so many people. But what I miss most … is my siblings." Her blue eyes cloud slightly with the memory, and Caesar's next question is gentle: "What are their names?"

"Amethyst, Glimmer, the twins, Sparkle and Glitter, Diamond, Ruby, Velvet, Topaz, Gem, and Jewels. Mother is expecting another – a girl. I call her Sapphire." Shyne lets a sweet smile slip to the audience. "I'm the oldest."

"Do you care much for your siblings?" Caesar asks.

Shyne nods quickly. "Mother cannot manage them all, and so I take Topaz and Gem to the Training Academy to watch almost every day. I teach them all what I learn, and they are all rather good for their age. Amethyst and Glimmer plan to volunteer for the Games soon." Pride springs in her eyes at this last statement.

Caesar lifts his eyebrows. "Training Academy? What could you be training for?" The crowd chuckles. Everyone knows the tributes from Districts 1, 2, and 4 are trained, but it has never been confirmed, since it is technically allowed by the Capitol.

Shyne refuses to say more, and Caesar moves on to her training score. "You received the highest training score, along with Fawn Dogwood and Tide Playa. What do you think about an outlying district tribute receiving the same score as you?"

The cameras find me. The Capitol crowd holds its breath – they know of my double alliance. Perhaps some of the crowds at home do not, but they will presently. I put a small smile on my face, a secretive one, just like Garnish taught me to do.

Shyne smiles. "Well, I'm pretty happy that my allies did well. You see, Caesar, we Careers saw Fawn training, and we decided we wanted her in the alliance at once."

Caesar fakes shock, for the benefit of those who may not know this already. "Really? Fawn Dogwood has been invited to the Career alliance? And she accepted?"

Shyne's smile falters, and I realize for the first time how good of an actress she must be – to fake slipping indignation so well. "Well, she was in another alliance before we offered her the chance to join us, you see. It was with her district partner and the two from District 11." Indignation sparks in me – Shyne knows their names. She isn't saying them because she wishes to sound superior. "The boy from 11, October, was also offered a place in our alliance. They agreed, but they told their district partners that it was all a lie."

A gasp went up from the crowd. They've heard this all before, as have I, but somehow, hearing Shyne say it, it feels all new. "The question is," Shyne answers, still pleasant in appearance, "who they are lying too."

"And who do _you_ think they are lying to?"

Shyne leans forward, and the innocence is lost from her face, replaced by a deadly expression that sends chills up my back. "It had better be to the Careers," she says. "I would hate to see October and Fawn's odds slip too quickly."

The timer beeps, and I jump a little bit. I hadn't been watching the clock. Shyne smiles graciously at Caesar, shakes his hand, accepting his wishes of 'May the odds be ever in your favor' and sitting back down.

As I watch Luster stride to the Interview Chairs, nervousness floods back to me. I had become so interested in Shyne's interview that I had forgotten that I had to do one as well. I arrange my face into a mask again, carefully, so that my nervousness doesn't come through. Somewhere, my family is watching. My troop is watching. River is watching.

"Well, Luster, do you have anything that you want to say to you family and friends back home?"

Luster grins. "Yeah – I'd like to say hello to my brother Sylver, and to remind him that I can still handle a sword better than him." He pauses to allow the crowd to chuckle. "And I'd like to wish my sister, Brilliant, good health. She recently met a man," he explains to Caesar, "and I'll admit curiosity to know if I am to soon be an uncle." The audience laughs at this as well, for several seconds.

"What is your best weapon?"

"Anything close combat," Luster shrugs. "I like stocky swords, awls, scythes, axes, and things like that. I'm not the only Career like that this year, Caesar. Shyne and Syren are actually the only traditional Careers that are good at long-range. That's why Fawn was an asset we were interested in having in our pack." I had figured as much, but it's interesting to hear him say that.

Caesar jumps on the topic of me. "How do you feel about this double alliance?"

Luster shrugs, and I think that I sense he is upset to have mentioned me and directed the attention from himself. "Nothing that Shyne has not already said." He renews her threat without saying it, or even changing his likable demeanor.

Taking the hint, Caesar leaves the topic of me to rest. "Well, we know that your sister has a sweetheart back home," he comments. "What about you?"

Luster smiles slightly. "Of course I do, Caesar! Have you seen me?" The women in the audience cheer immediately for this – you can see Luster's tense muscles through his shirt. When they quit, Luster continues, "Her name is Swan."

"Is she beautiful?" asks Caesar.

"Absolutely," Luster agrees. "and graceful, too, like a swan she was named for. When I win, we are going to be married."

The audience lets out a little sigh of bliss. All of the victor's weddings are televised, and the Capitol celebrates with the victors, having huge parties that sometimes last weeks. And just by those words, Luster has guaranteed himself sponsors.

When Luster's time runs up, Gneiss takes his spot. She is very short with Caesar, and reveals very little about herself to the audience. "I have two brothers." She told Caesar. "My parents both live." When asked her brothers' names, she says that they are called Basalt and Cato.

"My strength is my main weapon," she says. "Any weapon may accompany it, but none equals it." She tells Caesar before the timer goes off.

Mason is very boisterous. "I can crush a tribute with my own bare hands." I notice that Cabel and Angela look quite frightened by this comment, and that was the desired effect, of course. "If I can get close to a tribute, they don't stand a chance." I notice Tide smiling slightly as Mason speaks, as if on an inside joke that no one else knows.

Mason's training score, which was the lowest of all the Career's, was brought up, of course. Mason told Caesar that the Training Sessions aren't always correct. "You can't measure a tribute completely until they're in the arena. Believe me, Caesar, I'll be worthy of a 12 tomorrow."

Pixel's interview receives a dimmer reaction from the crowd than the one they gave to Districts 1 and 2. She is very intelligent, which I had guessed. She tells Caesar that she recently developed a new element that she called Athenista, named after her sister Athene, which would soon be put to use in screens for a clearer picture. One day, she said, if Athenista had the potential that she thought it did, it may make holograms a realistic alternative to screens.

She spoke for nearly two minutes about Athenista, before Caesar asks, "You said you had a sister? Athene?"

"Yes." Pixel nods a moment, visibly pushing back tears. "She looks very much like me. She is eleven, and very bright. In District 3, our intelligence determines our class. It looks as if she will be very highly ranked one day."

"What about you? What did people think your status would be before you were Reaped?"

Pixel is unable to hold back tears at this. "I was to be one of the wealthiest people in the district." She admits, her voice cracking. Caesar pats her arm gently. "Is there any boy that you would like to say hello to?"

"Yes." Her voice remains unsteady. "His name is Ajax. I want him to know that I love him."

Her timer goes off and she returns to her seat, leaving my heart aching. I wish that I didn't have to hear the other tributes' interviews. Tomorrow, the Games begin. And the Games have only one rule: Kill or be killed. Now that I know more about Pixel, will it be as easy to kill her?

Chip comes up. He proves to be hardworking, though his training score of 3 somewhat contradicts this. Only Cotton scored lower than him with her 2. Altogether, he seems rather nervous and clumsy before the audience, and we learn very little about him. He has three siblings, Felix, Zeno, and Vala. The eldest, Felix is married. His token is a beaded bracelet that Vala made for him.

The audience, particularly the male portion, becomes very excited when Syren steps forward. She is dressed in a very short, black dress. It makes her look deadly and gorgeous at the same time. The way she carries herself pushes all doubt from my mind – she is using her beauty to her advantage. When she is asked if there is a man back home (Caesar's use of the word 'man' instead of 'boy' strikes me. I suppose that Syren does look much older than us in her makeup), Syren replies, "No, I am single." And several men cry out at this, as though in triumph.

She reveals that she has several siblings – Peral, Foam, and Scales. Caesar doesn't linger on her family, however, moving quickly to the topic of her strengths. "You must have quite a few, as you got a 9 in the training sessions," he points out.

She smiles and nods. "I work on the boats in District 4, so I am a very strong swimmer. That's a talent that few of us tributes share." She lets the importance of this sink in. "Of course, I'm also good at fishing and purifying water, so as long as there is a stream, I will survive." She says that she is talented at long-distance as well as close combat.

Tide takes Syren's place, with a headdress of beads that spill down his back like a waterfall. He is very cocky. When asked his strengths, Tide responds, "I can rush, swim, climb, and I have a good mind. I can handle any weapon, and have mastered all of the survival skills necessary for these Games." Basically, he has just confirmed that he has been trained.

"Is there anything that you're not good at?" Caesar chuckles.

"I'm not sure, Caesar. I'm yet to find something." The audience chuckles at this, for a moment. I can practically hear people saying that he was one to sponsor.

"You have several siblings, don't you, Tide?" Tide agrees with this, and Caesar continues, "Didn't you lose an older sister four years ago, Ocean Playa?"

Tide hesitates a long moment before saying, "Yes. In the Hunger Games. She died when her allies turned on her in her sleep." Tide's hands were fists in his lap, but his voice was steady. The crowd is completely silent.

"It must have taken courage to volunteer after the death of your sister." There is empathy for Tide in Caesar's voice, but Tide doesn't want it.

"It did," he says. "More than it did for her. And that's why I'll be coming out of the arena, and not her." His timer goes off at that.

Scarlett Wires, in a gown made entirely of pink flowers, takes Tide's spot. She tells him about how resourceful you have to be to survive in District 5. She describes how she has found faults in the energy system, and how that has given her bonuses over the years. Her face remains impassive as she speaks, but I know what she's doing. She just said, plainly, to the whole of Panem, that the energy system has flaws. The country has flaws. I tense, fearful for her.

"Do you have any siblings? Parents?"

Scarlett hesitates. I know her fear. After saying something so rebellious on camera, her family may suffer punishments after the Games. "Yes," she says. "a mother and a sister." Without waiting to be asked to say something to them, she says, "Stay strong, Elysia, Mother."

Cabel surprises me. He doesn't cry at all during his interview, and actually makes an impression on the audience as a sweet child. "What would your parents say about your performance during the training session?" Caesar doesn't say that Cabel only got a three.

"They would be very proud of me," Cabel says, without a hint of tears. How long had he practiced doing this? "That's what I kept thinking while I trained. What would Mommy say? How would Daddy do this?"

"And did it work?" Caesar encourages. "Did you learn a lot during the sessions?"

"Yes," Cabel smiles, showing his small, thirteen year-old teeth. "I promise." A sigh went from the audience – he was so charming, so likeable. So … childish. No one was foolish enough to think that he would win, but he had touched their hearts and would be remembered.

Jet comes up, looking dangerous. Caesar asks her what she thinks her odds are, disregarding the Training Scores. Jet laughs and replies, "I am going to win, Caesar."

Her comment takes him off guard, and he laughs in response. "Well, with that confidence in yourself, it would surprise me if there's something that you can't do. What are your strengths, Jet?"

"I know how to use weapons. I know how to use the survival skills, Caesar. I don't just know them. I know how to apply them. I can survive in the arena. I've always been a survivor. And that's what I'm going to do now."

The conversation flows on, and Caesar asks if there is any special boys back in District 6. Jet's face hardens. "There was."

"Was?" Caesar's voice is thick with wonder and emotion. "What do you mean, was?"

Jet seems reluctant to answer. Her face is unnaturally pale, and her demeanor like ice. "His name was Arrats. He died last year when he fell from a hovercraft." The audience gasps, and I join them. Such things are unheard of. Even Caesar is speechless. Jet nods at our confusion and surprise. "The crew was testing a new kind of glass, and in the middle of a difficult maneuver, it broke. Arrats fell, and there was nothing that anyone could do …" she trails off.

"I'm sorry," Caesar says, but Jet shakes it off. She doesn't want his sympathy.

I think that I can understand Jet now. If River were killed, I may accept the Games as a way to escape the pain. She doesn't care for her own life anymore. A tribute that has nothing to lose is a tribute to be feared. I think to myself that after the Careers, Rye, Jet, and maybe Ryder and Thread are the biggest threats to me. The thought tears at me as hard as a knife, but I force it to remain. I still intend to get out of this alive.

I miss most of Ryder's interview, catching only that he has only his mother, and a ring that was his father, engraved with the words, "Family lies in the heart." I am next. My stomach is gone, replaced by water. My insides are moving like water, frozen and icy. I feel the need to gag – to remove the water from me. For a moment, I think that I am going to puke.

Then I see River's face. It is kind and comforting, with his dark hair and bright green eyes. I am beautiful tonight, and, though I am as distant as the stars, I want River to see me as beautiful one more time. I don't want him or my sisters to see my fear.

"And now, allow me to introduce … Miss Fawn Dogwood!" Caesar announces.

My vision clears. I can still see River before me, by my side, and all around me. But I am now also aware of the audience and Caesar. Cheers rise to great me as I stand and walk forward. River's presence, though far, is sure, and gives me comfort. I don't even struggle with the high shoes Tigris has given me.

Caesar accepts my hand and we sit down together. My timer begins as Caesar asks, "So, Fawn, I think that we are all dying to know what is going through your head about this double alliance."

I take a deep breath, recalling the words that Blight and I rehearsed. "I can't exactly tell you whom my loyalties lie with, Caesar," I tease him.

"All right," Caesar smiles slightly. "At least tell me this, do the loyalties of young October Harvest lie with you?"

I glance at October over my shoulder, and he smiles at me. I turn back to Caesar. "I do believe so."

Caesar nods. "Do you have anything to say about your training score? Any hints as to why it may be so high?"

I purse my lips, glancing at the Gamemaker's balcony. "I can't tell you exactly what happened in my session, but let's just say that I have known how to throw knives long before I came to the Capitol."

Caesar looks interested. "What do you mean, Fawn?" He knows that we have no training in District 7 – we have too few victors for that. The audience must be very confused. I hesitate, making them wonder and holding out the moment. Finally, Caesar says, "Does it have something to do with that scar on your temple?"

My hand flies to it automatically. I had forgotten that the Capitol wouldn't understand what it symbolizes. It is such a part of me that I forget sometimes. "It is a crescent moon," I tell them, unnecessarily. "it symbolizes my troop."

"What is a troop?" Caesar is still just as confused.

"It is a group of young people that scout the forest that we are about to cut down, searching for landmarks, types of trees, and bodies of water. The one from my part of District 7, Sawdust, is called Crecent Moon Troop." I pause, and Caesar makes no move to interrupt me. "There are lots of wild animals in the forest, that, like mutts, want nothing more than to kill us. So we are granted knives to protect ourselves.

Caesar nods, intrigued. "I see. How long have you been in such a dangerous occupation?"

"It isn't allowed until Reaping age," I tell Caesar. "and I signed up the day that I turned twelve. As you may imagine, I am very good at throwing knives."

This sinks in for a moment, and I glance at the clock. A full two minutes are gone. "You have been seen wearing a carved necklace that bears striking resemblance to the one you are wearing now. Is that your token?" He needn't have asked. I wouldn't have been allowed to wear it if it weren't. I nod in response. "How did you acquire this necklace?"

"There are always spare scraps of wood lying around," I answer him. "Scraps that aren't big enough to be worth transporting to the processing factories. My mother carved the necklace and gave it to my sisters, Aria and Creta. They gave it to me to be my token." It is the answer that Blight and I decided on – to protect Jessica. I wish I could protect my family as well, but there is no hiding the fact that they are my relatives.

Caesar nods. "Is there anything that you want to say to them?"

My face constricts painfully before I can stop it. "I love you, all of you." I hope the troop, Web, and River understand that I mean them too. "Don't forget that, or what I said to you in the goodbyes. Don't worry, so long as you haven't given up on me, I won't give up either."

Time is running out. I can see the seconds dwindling. Caesar fits in one last question: "Is there any boy back home, Fawn?"

Even though the thought of doing this has hurt all day, even though I know how it will make River feel, I answer without hesitation, "No."

I return to my seat after Caesar wishes me luck, and Raven takes the spotlight. He states that he trusts me, and believes that I am faithful to him and Maze. He also says, "I may not look strong, but I really am. Hand-to-Hand Combat is my strength."

"Is that what earned you a six?" Caesar asks

"Yes, that and the other things I learned, like survival skills."

The conversation moves to his family. "My three siblings and I live with my grandfather, Ashton. He's an older man, but still stable. My siblings are all thirteen – triplets. My mother died giving birth to them. Rowen is the boy, and takes after me and my father. Hazal is the sweetest person I have ever known, and Dara … she's daring. Hazal is bullied sometimes, and Dara always returns the taunts with an iron fist." He chuckles, thinking of his siblings. "I know that Dara will protect them all while I'm gone."

Cotton comes up next, in her soft white dress of clouds. She is charming, and pretty in a young way. She only tears once, when she recalls that she has a mother back home whom she loves very much. I learn that she was always dreamed of being a mother – a dream that I, too, possessed at 13. My heart aches.

Thread is trying to appear sly, but does not execute it very well. In the end, we learn very little about him, except that he has a small but beautiful girlfriend named Veri. He says hello to his mates from the orphanage, and that is how we learn that he is an orphan. His token is a spool of thread that was all that Veri had to give him. At the end of his Interview, he reveals that he and Ryder are allied.

Rye, in a dark gown, is beautiful and deadly. I realize that I haven't spoken to her much, and absorb as much as I can about her interview. She has no siblings, and comes from a hardworking family. She says that they earn whatever they have, and take nothing more. She says that she knows how to use a scythe, and could win the Games if there was one in her possession. She seems very sure about that. Her confidence is what makes me believe in her words. And I have seen that they are true. She has placed very high in all of the exercises, and her training score was an 8.

Barley tries to be likeable, but ends up crying when he begins talking about his sister, Soil early on in s Interview. He manages to pull himself together at the end, and he tells Caesar that he and Cabel Atom are allied.

Angela Herder comes up timidly, quick as a mouse and her features looking as small as one. "I'm good at blending in," she tells Caesar. "Very good at camouflage."

"Your hair color will stand out like a beacon," Caesar points out.

Angela nods, and her white blonde hair moves slightly with her head. "I know. I plan to make it brown or black in the arena." It is a good plan. I have dark features already, and don't have to worry about making such plans.

Grant is dressed in a skin-tight shirt that shows his many muscles. He claims that it is his strength that earned him a 7. His mother has recently died, leaving him with only his two year old sister. They live in the orphanage. He says that his strength will give him an advantage in the arena, and that anyone looking to doubt him (he looks at the Careers as he speaks) is making a mistake.

My eyes narrow slightly, in confusion rather than hostility. Why is he making it so obvious? Wouldn't it be smarter to show it to only the sponsors in the arena and to surprise the Careers later?

When Maze comes before the audience, they all let out a little sigh. Maze's hair is done, for the first time since I've met her, in a sleek wave. In a watery purple gown, Maze is graceful and beautiful. She proves to be so in personality, as well.

"I love my siblings very much," she tells Caesar. "I am the oldest of seven, with my elderly grandmother to help me as much as she can."

When Caesar asks Maze about where she believes October and my own loyalties lie, she states, "I trust October with my life. We knew each other back in District 11. And I may have just met Fawn, but I know a good from a bad person when I see one. I trust her." And so it is confirmed to the entire country: I am trusted by both alliances. Who will I deserve to be trusted by, though?

Maze tells him that she is an agility and long range fighter like me. She prefers crossbows and bows and arrows to knives, however. She says that this is the reason that she received an eight in training. I relax as she speaks – with a caring demeanor and just being likeable as always, Maze charms me and the crowd once more.

October goes up after her, in a green outfit that clashes with his hair. He is horribly funny, filled with jokes that I'm guessing he worked on all day. He grows serious only when Caesar brings up the double alliance. "Fawn and I were put in a tough spot," he admits. "We were already in an alliance with people we cared about when the Careers offered us a spot. You can't exactly ignore a spot in the Career alliance – it means a lot in intimidation, and basically ensures you a spot in the top ten." He shakes his head, hopelessly. "What are we to do?"

Hestia goes up, in her blood red dress. Caesar is very inquisitive as to how she learned to swim. Hestia refuses to say, which makes everyone assume that she learned illegally, and Caesar moves on to ask her about family. She replies that she has an older brother, Abram, who is married with two children, and no other living family.

"My strength is swimming." Her eyes twinkling, she adds, "There's something else, too, Caesar, that I haven't shown anyone yet. It's a surprise for in the arena."

Cole goes up, and is mostly silent. His silence gives him an air of mystery and deadliness that I doubt he could have achieved otherwise with his four in training. He curtly says that he is an orphan, and that he has no girl or friends.

When Cole sits down, all of us tributes rise and the Capitol Anthem blares over the cheering crowd. I know that my family is looking at me, at this very moment, as is River, Web, my troop, Mist Troop, the whole of District 7, the Capitol, and Panem. I know that I may very well be dead in less than twelve hours.

How do I want to die? I wonder suddenly. Dressed in a gown of stars, it isn't hard to think about death. It will be hard later. Now, everything seems so distant that an answer comes to me quickly. I want to die smiling. I want to die laughing, and I want to be rememebered with an air of mystery. What did Fawn Dogwood know that made her laugh as the blood poured out of her? They'd never know the answer: I was laughing at them for wanting to know.

I smile at the crowd, chuckling a little bit to myself as the lights faded, casting the entire stage into darkness.

**~~BTCS~~**

_Anyone catch Glimmer's name? Cato? Quite a bit of character building went on in this chapter…. Just in time for them all to die. Well, if you don't know a tribute at least by name and district by now, I have failed. When the Games start, there will be conflicts with characters that haven't been too important up to now._

_One more chapter of Part 2! Then we enter Part 3 and the Games! You're excited for the bloodshed, right? Because you're reading this fic, like the Capitol watches the Games…. Yes, I just implied that you're a Capitol citizen._

_Please **review! **Please….. _


	16. II CAGED

**PART II. PREPARING.  
CHAPTER 16. CAGED.**

_My hovercraft version is not the one from the movie – I didn't like how they had the tributes all together. It made for a nice movie scene, and for pictures… but for the circumstance… I don't think the Capitol would have been stupid enough to put them all together at such a crucial and stressful time. Which, in the book, they didn't. I also forgot to mention, but I stuck to the book with the Interviews as well._

_Very short chapter today. It's nothing big – just doing some last minute character building, a little bit of foreshadowing, and getting Fawn into the arena. The drama starts to get crazy with the dying of tributes next chapter – in Part 3._

**~BTCS~**

"Good job," Blight begins. He's sent the stylists and prep teams away – I've said my official goodbyes to Cinna, Portia, and Clio. Garnish is standing just over Blight's shoulder, silent for the moment. "You were both very good tonight. You will be a hard pair to ignore. I have full confidence that I will be meeting with sponsors shortly after the bloodbath tomorrow morning." I shudder at the words 'bloodbath' and 'tomorrow morning' in one sentence. Now that the Interviews are over, there is nothing more to do to prepare for my entrance into the Games. The Games seem closer, now, more real than ever, and I feel helpless.

"Tomorrow morning," Blight speaks carefully, and I pay attention, memorizing my mentor's last words to me. "you will be roused by your stylist. After giving you minimal prepping themselves, they will escort you to the roof to board the hovercraft. You will be allowed to eat there, and I'd advise you to, Raven." He turns to me. "You should drink, and eat a little, but nothing that will hinder you physically. You'll have food from the Cornucopia soon enough." Raven and I nod in agreement.

"When you arrive, you'll receive your clothing for the arena. No one but the Gamemakers know what they look like – not even your stylists. Clio and Tigris are prepared to help you make observations and guesses about the arena from the clothing. The Games do not begin until 10 o'clock, and you will have nearly an hour in the prep room. I'd advise you both to clear your minds during this time. Stretch a bit, pace the floor, even cry a little. Because after that hour, you're in the arena where everyone – especially the sponsors – are watching."

He lets this sink in. "When you are lifted into the arena, you have to start acting again. Raven, located Maze immediately, and run as quick as you can. Hide until you and October and Fawn can meet up." Raven nods, his face blank – as though he feels as helpless as I do. Blight turns to me. "You run to the Cornucopia as quickly as you can. Don't worry so much about killing tributes – I want you to be sure that you get your knives, an axe, and whatever else you can. Don't be so sure that the Careers will let you have everything they promised." I close my eyes, trying to suppress the image of me stabbing a faceless tribute to death.

Blight hesitates. "Tonight will be a long night for all of us – there is no doubt about that." He hesitates again. "Just know this. You are the most promising pair of tributes that I've had in a long while. You are here to represent District 7, and you shall do so well in this."

Then, to my surprise, he embraces Raven, and then me. He hesitates as he holds me, and I understand why he is doing this. "I know it's hard to believe, but you can win this, Fawn. Raven's not as likely to, but you can. Believe in yourself." Then he pulls away as if he never said a word, and walks out of the room without looking back.

Garnish embraces me too, and the Raven, beaming. "You are wonderful tributes." She tells us. I flinch at her words. I had thought that Garnish grew attached to Raven and I, but perhaps I had been wrong. "Don't worry, and may the odds be ever in your favor!" She trots out of the room, and I think that we are rid of her till she reappears in the doorway, exclaiming, "Happy Hunger Games!" before disappearing once more.

Left alone with my ally, I don't know what to say. We both look at our shoes for a long moment before he says, "I don't want to say goodbye in this," he gestures to our extravagant outfits and I understand. There's a chance we will never speak again, and it's best that it isn't done in this apparel. "Can I come by your room in an hour or so?"

I shrug, knowing that I won't be sleeping tonight anyway. "Better make it two. It might take my hours to get this off me." It is a bad excuse for a joke, but it makes him smile anyway.

In my room, my screen is on, which I think to be odd. I glance around, but no Avoxes are present. With a shrug, I glance at the recappings of the Interviews, which we had skipped watching tonight – after all, we'd been present and been able to see all of the interviews. I instruct the screen to turn itself off, and take one last look at myself in the mirror before taking off the dress and tiara. I keep the necklace, however, grabbing my own carved duplicate and entering an icy bath.

The 'stardust' washes off me with surprising ease. I let my hair tangle and curl in the water, grateful to feel simple once more. I hold the two necklaces at arm's length, considering them. The carved one was a thing of simplicity, but had a charm in its own way. The metal one was beautiful – it took the carved necklace and made is dazzling. Just like me.

I emerge from the bath after what feels like a very long time, and return, dripping wet, to my room. My outfit from the night has been removed, and I request one of the simplest nightgowns from my closet. It gives it and I dress in it. For a moment, I consider the two necklaces, still dangling from my hand, and then put down the sparkling one. I slip my token around my neck.

I dry myself and have the wind-machine straighten my hair. Then I go to my letters.

I cannot stop my hands from trembling as I pick them up, thumbing through them. I composed seven letters in total. I wrote to my mother, Creta, and Aria separately, reminding them that I love them, and of the good times I wanted them to remember rather than the Games. Inside Mom's tightly wrapped envelope I place not only her letter, but also four others, with requests that she deliver them to their owners.

The first is to River. It is the one that Cinna found this morning. It begs him to move on, and to forget the life we may have had. It promises that I won't stop fighting to come back to him. Another is to his family – Byron, Tyrone, and Lily. My wishes for them to help River move on are inside, as well as good wishes to the end of Lily's pregnancy. "A life for a life, I've heard said," the letter includes, "Fate had best not cheat your young one as it has me." I also include that I wish they would express gratitude to the Mist Troop for their words in my goodbyes.

The Crescent Moon Troop's letter is in one paper. I thank them for the good times, and give them the responsibility of my family. It is one that they will not want, but one that I think they shall accept, for me. The final is to Web, and it is the shortest of them all. It contains only a few words: "Thank you. I have done all I can. Die peacefully." I know that Web will compose his final song – a rebellious song – and be killed later. Once I am dead, there will be no one else for him to live for.

Raven arrives just after I have sealed the last envelope. When I open the door for him, he stands awkwardly in my room. I understand. I don't want to be in here, either. The recently closed letters have touched my hands for the last time, with a sense of finality that leaves me cold. "Let's go up to the roof."

This time, I am the one that is late. I spot two shapes in the darkness where I met October just two nights ago. I go to one, the shivering body of Maze, and hug her tightly. Human contact is, for some reason, crucial at this moment. When I let go, I go to October. I hear Maze and Raven embracing behind us.

When we let go, we sit together is a tight circle. The Capitol is located high in the mountains, and is, by effect, rather cold in the windy night. I don't mind the wind or the cold very much, but my allies certainly do, and so I keep them warm.

After several moments of silence, October says, "Let's go over the plan." His voice is hushed. The cameras won't catch our hushed voices in the wind, or any other lurking tributes, for that matter. "Fawn and I aren't trusted enough to be allowed out to hunt tributes at night, or at least we think. So you'll be in the trees waiting for us the first night. The signal –"

"Will be a birdcall," Maze interrupts, letting out a loud, high pitched sound that was very similar to a bird's call.

"You will distract whomever we are left with," I tell October, "and I will have my knives ready to –" I cut myself off. I know the moment must come, but even thinking about it is difficult. Saying the words is dooming me, and acknowledging their truth is torture.

The others say nothing. Surely they understand. That's why I am allied with them, isn't it? Wasn't I first attracted to them because I felt they could understand me? Isn't that why I am not a Career? "And then we grab whatever we can and run." Raven states, his voice cold. "The Careers won't take long to return to the Cornucopia, especially after hearing a cannon."

I know the significance of this conversation – our last outside the arena. I cannot pay it attention, however. My heart is flying with worry, and my mind is flying as it tries to guess what will await us tomorrow. A desert? It would be a cruel joke for the Capitol to put me somewhere so warm. But, I think as a yawn escapes me, at least I have allies to believe in. So many tributes are tossing in their beds without them.

**~~BTCS~~**

A touch on the shoulder wakes me. I jerk up, blinking the sleep from my eyes. How did I fall asleep? I glance over to see October, whose hand is still hovering over me. I blink several times, my vision still spotty from sleep. Maze and Raven come into focus. They're both leaning on trees, fast asleep.

"We can't stay," October's voice is hushed. The time for words has passed. He gestures at the skyline of buildings, and my heart sinks. The sun is rising from a break in the mountains. Today, the 70th Hunger Games begin. Today I might die.

**~~~BTCS~~~**

Tigris is waiting for me in my room. She doesn't ask where I've been, and the prep team is not with her. I will never see them again. Some part of me is saddened – goodbyes are trying now, no matter how small. Without a word, Tigris leads me to the bathroom where I am quickly rinsed off and lathered. My hair is brushed and left loose. My stylist gives me a simple shift to wear.

We head up to the roof. I don't see Raven – our goodbye was on the roof. We'll see each other in a few short hours, but it feels like goodbye nonetheless. The roof is empty, and in the light has lost some of its magic. I don't look around, and grab the ladder leading to the hovercraft immediately. I am frozen in place, and lifted up.

A medic waits for me inside the hovercraft. She has a kind face, but she isn't smiling. "This is your tracker, Fawn," she tells me, moving closer. She has a needle. I've never enjoyed the feeling of hopelessness Capitol doctors give me. In a needle can be a life saving cure or a poisonous toxin. If I could move, I would flinch.

"This won't hurt too long," she says, and quickly moves towards me frozen body. She injects the tracker on my right forearm, and the ladder unfreezes me. I gasp in shock and pain, clutching my arm. By the time Tigris has entered, however, the pain has faded to a dull throb.

"This way." The medic leads us to a small room with two chairs and a table piled with food. There is a window, so that Tigris and I can look at the land we pass over. My mouth is sand, my tongue clumsy. I can't form the words to thank the medic. Tigris does, instead.

We sit. I stare at the landscape below, my breath stolen from me. Already, we have left the Capitol and its buildings behind for the snowy mountaintops and rolling green fields of grass and groves of trees. This, I think, is what the birds see. _Birds are the only true free creatures in Panem. _And the ironic thing is that I am not free, but am permitted to see this anyway.

For a time, at least. Too soon, the windows become black, and there is no more landscape to look at – no more forgetting that I am near the end of my life. The hovercraft doesn't appear to be moving, not without the aid of vision. I might be anywhere. But that's not true. There's a feeling of confinement, of being caged, in the hovercraft. I am an animal being transported for slaughter.

Tigris is eating before me, slowly, without looking at me. I stare, forgetting manners in my haste to forget my situation. With her long fang-like teeth, she can shred anything she puts in her mouth in a matter of seconds. I'm admiring the silkiness of her fur, something I haven't truly appreciated until this moment, when she glances up at me. I look quickly down, abashed.

"Are you not going to eat?" Tigris purrs. I say nothing, and grab a buttered roll. I force myself to eat it, and bite my tongue three times in the process. Remembering Blight's instructions, I also drink several glasses of water before I cannot force myself anymore.

Four Peacekeepers enter the room, and one says, "It is time to escort you to the Launch Room." I rise, surprised that I'm not shaking, and allow the Peacekeepers to form a boxed formation around me. Tigris walks behind us. As we exit the hovercraft, I see that it landed in the underground Launch Pad, beneath the arena. The Launch Rooms, or, as they are referred to in the District, the Stockyards, consists of several rooms underneath the arena, in which anything sponsors may want to give tributes lie, as well as the rooms tributes are in before they are sent to the arena. The rooms, as well as the arena, are preserved for Capitol citizens vacationing.

When we enter the small room with two chairs, a table, and the circular tube that will take me to the arena, I know that I am not truly caged. There is no escaping. The only way out is the tube, and the tube leads to death.

Tigris stands by the door, watching me closely. I wonder what the other tributes in the past have done in these moments before the arena. Have they cried, screamed, tried to kill themselves? Tigris is surely comparing me to them now. I must be dull, though, because I cannot come up with any emotion besides stillness at this point. Even the fear is gone.

"You're doing well," she tells me, and then turns towards the door as it opens. An Avox places a pile of clothing in her furry arms. Tigris walks towards the table, sitting the bundle on it. Slowly, she opens it, studying the clothes. I remember what Blight said – Tigris can help me understand what the clothes mean is in store for me in the arena. I move closer to her, looking over her shoulder.

A tight, light gray shirt lies on the top of the pile, with darker pants. There are sturdy black boots meant for running and a thin white and gray jacket that reaches the thigh. When I have put them on, I discover that the outfit is very lightweight and warm. In fact, I'm perspiring under it all. Tigris doesn't have to tell me that the arena will be cold.

Tigris takes my token from where it was sitting on the table, and puts it over my head gently. It settles outside my jacket, and I look at it a moment before back at her. "It is nearly time," she tells me.

Dread washes over me. Fear, sharp as a dagger, strikes in my chest. I reach for my letters, hidden in the pocket of the shift. "I should have given these to Blight," I admit, showing her the letters. "I forgot last night, and I didn't see him this morning. Will you…. see that they make it to those I addressed them to?"

Tigris looks at them a moment before accepting them. "I will do my best," she promises. My heart relaxes a little, knowing that the letters are safe. "It's time," Tigris tells me, motioning to the tube.

Fear envelopes me suddenly, leaving me freezing under the warmth of the clothes. I push it away, forcing myself to face the tube. "Goodbye, Tigris."

"Goodbye," she echoes.

I step into the tube, and it seals around me. I'm caged, perhaps more tightly than before. I glance up. There is a light, coming from above. It is blinding – sunlight. I am raised upward, just as I was last night, towards the light. Only this time, I can't see the crowd. And they can see me more than ever.

**~~~~BTCS~~~~**

_Yes, that was short. It accomplished a lot, though :) I'm sure that you're very eager for the Games to begin, so I'll try to hurry the next chapter._


	17. III BLOOD

**PART III. GAMES.  
CHAPTER 17. BLOOD.**

_Into Part III! YAY FOR THE GAMES! yah...right._

_I stick with the description of the Bloodbath to the book pretty well, with the absence of a voice counting down, or a clock showing the countdown. My intent was actually to go with the movie on this one, but as I began to write, the book's version just seemed to fit better._

_Sorry this took forever. I had to rewrite it about four or five times, depending on the part, because I wanted the atmosphere to be just so. I wanted Fawn to continue battling her inner Career, as well as her natural good-heartedness. After all, only one can win in the end. In addition, I wanted to show terror of a tribute that isn't so strong as Katniss and isn't unwilling to admit it._

**~BTCS~**

The light stuns me, and I blink several times in effort to regain my sight. I take a deep breath of surprise as the arena comes into sight. Cold air rushes into me, filling me with that alert sense coldness does to me – the sense that I have come to associate with being alive.

For a moment, I think I am back home, in District 7. Snow piles in clumps under tall pine trees, and the sky is a blistering blue. I nearly run for the trees before I spot the Cornucopia, brilliant gold and shining. I stop myself. This is the Hunger Games, and if I run before the gong, my blood will spill too early for the Capitol (as well as my own) taste.

Tributes are in a circle around the Cornucopia. The trees are about fifty meters away from each tribute, arranged to make a clearing that is perfectly circular, which can only be done by Capitol design. Now that I look around, at the thickness and closeness of the pines, and the piling of the snow, I realize that the arena looks little like the true wilderness.

We are also about fifty meters away from the Cornucopia – far enough away that the supplies are indistinct, as well as many tributes. I squint at the pile inside the Cornucopia. It doesn't seem nearly as large as it should.

It occurs to me that everything is silent in suspense – calm, even. Tributes, with blurry faces, are poised to run – most towards the trees. Sixty seconds must be near expiring. I angle myself towards the Cornucopia, leaning forward and ready to run.

The gong sounds, the sound reverberating in my bones. As my legs move forward, my stomach dropping with fear and exhilaration, I realize something. Panem is watching. Blight is somewhere with sponsors, watching. Garnish is likely in a club, squealing in excitement as she watches. My family and friends are watching in the silent square of Redwood. President Snow is watching in his famous rose garden. Countless others that I will never know are holding their breaths, waiting for blood to spill.

By the time I have reached the Cornucopia, my fears are confirmed. Little to no supplies lie in the golden horn. As I watch, Tide pushes Shyne aside to take the sword she was reaching for. Panic rushes into me as I look for knives. There must be knives somewhere! My hands fly as I search through the small pile of supplies in desperation. My hands touch the freezing metal of the Cornucopia, and I feel my insides turn to ice as well. There are no knives.

I force myself to push aside the ice-feeling. There is no time now. I must claim what I will, or it will be taken from me. This is the nature of the Career alliance. Beside me, I can hear the sounds of scuffling as we fight over weapons. An axe lies in the snow, and I take it into my hands instead.

Suddenly, things become too quiet. I spin around, ponytail whipping against my neck. The clearing is nearly still. I spot Angela Herder's blonde hair quickly, and see that she is picking up a water bottle, one of the few things left outside of the actual Cornucopia. I can practically hear the snap as eyes lock on Angela.

Angela's eyes dialate and she abandons the water bottle, sprinting for the trees. We hesitate a moment, watching her run, before Tide whispers, "Mine." No one argues, and Tide takes off after. He gains quickly, but they are both shrouded in trees before he reaches her.

Mason curses from beside me, and I see that Syren has a black eye, and holds a small dagger triumphantly. Gneiss holds another dagger, and Luster a spear. Mason and Shyne are without weapons. October appears from the other side of the Cornucopia, with a sword. Shyne and Mason sour at the sight of it. "I just saw Cabel Atom and Barley Harvester disappear. If we hurry, we can catch them."

We hesitate, continuing to stare after Tide. We all know that we need him – or rather, the sword he holds, to continue. We will have to wait for him to return. I stand, holding my axe tightly. Here in the arena, it is as essential as food or water. I stare at the trees where Tide disappeared for a moment, before moving closer to October. "Where did you see Cabel and Barley go?"

October glances at me, and then quickly away, and I can practically feel his guilty conscience. Is he upset that he is turning them in? "That way," he grunts, gesturing to the other side of the Cornucopia with his sword. I step towards the spot, squinting in the direction, but it is difficult to make out anything. The snow blinds in the bright sunlight.

When I turn, Tide has reappeared, and the traditional Careers are exchanging glances, clearly trying to decide whether or not to trust October. But, with the note of urgency in the air, they cannot resist the temptation. Besides, the disappearance of tributes with only one death is obviously due to the squabble over weapons between the Careers. Gamemakers will not be pleased with this new development. The plan to separate forgotten, we dart into the trees.

It isn't difficult to figure out what direction Cabel and Barley went. Their footprints are obvious in the snow. I am soon in the front of the group, as the others are struggling to walk in the thick snow, a feat that I have long since perfected. My heart is pounding in my ears, my face a complete mask. There is no avoiding the fact now: I am in the Hunger Games, and I will soon kill.

Cabel's bright hair is evident to us immediately. He should have drawn up his hood to camouflage more efficiently, but in his haste, he must have forgotten. We pick up speed, drawing closer to the two tributes. Barley's dark skin appears against the white, better covered by his jacket. I glance around at the faces of the Careers, and all of them show bloodlust. Even October's face holds a savage sort of excitement. Quickly, I glance back at the fleeing tributes. It's an easier sight.

When we are only fifteen meters away from Barley and Cabel when Cabel looks back. "Run!" he shrieks to his ally, even though they are already moving as fast as they can. They begin to stumble more quickly and clumsily in attempt to escape us. Pity runs through me. Surely they know they cannot escape us.

We catch them quickly. Luster, Mason, and Syren take a long route around them, so that they appear suddenly form the trees to form a barrier. Cabel and Barley stumble. Barley falls, landing hard on his back. He blinks several times, obviously stunned. Shyne quickly jumps on top of him and pins him to the ground, growling at him.

Cabel takes a mad dash past me. Without thinking, I lunge for him, landing atop of him in the snow. His face shows surprise and hurt, and I involuntarily flinch. That night on the rooftop, he caught my crying over River. What was it that he had said to me? "You… you're scared too." His eyes blink at me, filled with tears, and I force myself to look away. My axe, laying just a few inches to my right, looks awfully dangerous right now.

"Tide," Shyne says, an eerie calm in her voice. "Give me the sword." I glance up at them quickly. Tide is holding the sword tightly, glaring at Shyne. He looks very dangerous – much more dangerous than he ever did before. They all do.

Tide does not respond. "Just let me have it long enough to finish this." She shakes her free hand angrily at Barley, who begins to kick and struggle against her grasp. Shyne turns back to him, putting her other hand on his shoulder. "Stay. Still." He goes immobile suddenly, and a cracking sounds fills the air. Barley whimpers pitifully.

"Barley!" Cabel cries, reaching for him and nearly unsettling me from my place on top of him. "Stop it! Stop it!" I tell him, cursing as he continues to struggle.

"Give me a dagger or something!" Shyne calls impatiently. Our allies gather around Shyne and Barley, exchanging dark looks. No one moves to hand her a weapon. They are too afraid that she will turn on them.

My attention flies back to Cabel as the boy continues to struggle. "Barley! Barley!" he screams. After a moment, his screams change to, "Mother! Father! Gilbert! Raiden! Help me!" He thrashes under me wildly in a fit, filled with exhilaration. I have to force myself to keep him pinned to the ground. I can't muster up any anger or bloodlust myself – all I feel is pity. Cabel and Barley's time is running thin.

My attention slips, and Cabel manages to free his hand. Before I can process this, his small fist collides powerfully with my neck. I sprawl backwards, stunned and surprised. How did he manage to punch me that hard? I touch the side of my neck and wince – it will surely bruise.

My mind takes a moment to clear, and I realize that Cabel has escaped. I jump to my feet, more startled than anything. The Careers are still huddled around Barley. "Hey!" I yell, into the trees. "Where'd you go?" I don't expect Cabel to hear or come back, but it gets the attention of the Careers.

"You let him get away?" October sounds very angry, and I force my face into a mask so my surprise won't show. He acts the part of Career well.

"I… he hit me," I explain weakly. Gneiss rolls her eyes at me, but Syren looks with sympathy at the blossoming bruise on my neck. "Who would've thought that squirt could hit that hard?" she marvels.

Luster shrugs. "Do you at least know what way he went?"

I did. I knew that he had run back, in the way we had come, but I consider for a long moment. If I tell the Careers, Cabel will likely die – maybe even at my own hand. "That way," I say, pointing to my left. My forehead crinkles as I feign surprise. "There's no footprints, though."

They all frown at me. "He couldn't have gone that way, then." Mason says. "Are you sure he didn't hit your head as well?"

"I… I'm not sure," I lie. "I didn't think he was strong enough to…" my hand goes to the bruise on my neck and I flinch again, mostly for effect.

Shyne makes an impatient noise. "Tributes are scattering," she reminds us. "Let's dispose of this one and then go find others." We make noises of agreement, and I retrieve my axe and hand it to Shyne. "Use this," I tell her, and, to my surprise, my voice stays level.

She accepts it, and snarls down at Barley, who is silent and blank-eyed in pain. Whatever she did to his back must have been pretty serious, because he hasn't moved since. "Goodbye, little Barley," she whispers, and lifts the axe.

A feeling of helplessness fills me. I turn my head, but that doesn't stop my from hearing Barley's strangled cry, and the heavy thud the axe makes. Shyne stands, dusting her hands, and gives me back the axe. I wipe the axe on the ground, unable to keep from recognizing the startling beauty of red blood on white snow. I glance at Barley's decapitated body and shudder.

A cannon sounds, followed by another. The sounds tell of Angela and Barley's deaths, and decree that the Bloodbath is over. Only two tributes died to start the Games. We glance at each other, feeling the failure in our hearts. We are supposed to provide the Capitol with a show, and we didn't. We will suffer the consequences later.

**~~BTCS~~**

We return to the Cornucopia dejectedly, to sort out the rest of the supplies and establish a watch for them. I keep a sharp eye out for Cabel's footprints in the snow, and the Careers do so as well, obviously having thought that he must have come this way. However, Cabel's footprints blend in well with the ones from earlier, and disappear in a mass of confusion when we reach again the circular clearing that the Cornucopia is located in.

When we are nearly halfway to the Cornucopia, Tide raises his hand to signal a halt. We do so immediately, looking around quickly and silent as statues. Slowly heads turn towards the Cornucopia, and I hear it as well. A shuffling noise is coming from inside the horn. Someone – or something – is looking through our supplies.

We move forward as one, as a pack. We are silent as the wolves and coyotes that I am so accustomed to fighting, back in District 7. It occurs to me that the Careers are like my troop, only hunting something much different and with a lot more to lose.

The shuffling stops, and so do we. None of us bear long distance weapons, except for my axe. The silence between us is deep, our fear of Capitol retaliation for not providing a good show uniting us. I heft my weapon, and we all glance at the horn timidly, thinking as one.

A face peeks out. I don't identify it. Instead, I focus on its movements as it slowly sneaks away from the horn. I wait, hesitating to memorize its stride before moving my arm backwards, preparing to let the axe fly. As my arm swings forward, my heart sticks in my throat, and I picture Cabel's face as he struggled, Angela's frightened glance at us, and Barley's deafeated features. The axe swings through the air, and misses the figure by a fraction.

The figure starts, and begins to run without looking back. We run too, me feigning to keep the expressions of terror off my face. The figure doesn't appear to be very fast, and we catch up in seconds. I recognize the tribute. "It's Chip Drive," I gasp, winded from all the running. "From District 3."

Luster tackles Chip, punching him several times in the chest until Chip stops fighting and simply lies rigid. I  
stumble to a halt directly beside them, almost tripping over the pair. Gneiss appears in front of me suddenly, handing Luster his spear, which he must have dropped in the scuffle.

While Chip is temporarily immobile, Luster quickly stabs the spear through his stomach. I have to force myself not to turn and gag. This is my world now – I have to get used to it at some point.

Chip makes a gargling sound that makes me feel somewhat faint, and Luster stands. "This one is mine," he says, and no one disputes this, either. I am beginning to understand the silent communications of the Career pack.

Luster puts his foot on Chip's chest, close to where my axe is embedded. Chip gasps in pain, and Luster pushes down harder, cruely. "Can you talk?" Luster demands, face contorted into a rough mask. Chip gasps again, a small scream tearing from his throat. "I said, can you talk?"

"Yes," Chip manages, barely audible.

"Good." Luster's foot relaxes, but only slightly. "Was anyone else here? Did anyone else search through the supplies?"

Chip hesitates, breathing heavily. "No," he gasps.

"He's lying." October says, quickly. All eyes turn to him. One of my eyebrows raises silently. "He isn't clever enough to think of stealing himself – he'd have to see someone else do it."

Chip appears offended, as if October betrayed him, but is not in a place to argue. Luster pushes his foot down again. "Is that true? Did you lie?"

The tribute begins to cough up blood, all over his face, and before I can think, I am saying, "Stop that, Luster. If you want him to be able to talk, you'd better stop."

"Excuse me?" Luster's eyes glint.

"I –" I gulp slightly, aware what my thoughtless words have done. Straightening my back, I gather every bit of pride I have in my and state, "If you want to be able to interrogate him, you need him alive, and if you keep treating him like that, he won't be for long." I glance at Chip's wound as I speak, and I know I am right. Chip will be dead in moments without any of our help.

Luster stares at me a long minute, and then nods curtly. He turns back to Chip, and I feel the eyes of the other Careers shift, for the moment. A thrill of fear jolts through me. I need to get out of this alliance as soon as possible.

"Who was at the Cornucopia before you?" Luster is demanding again. Chip stares at him blankly, and I wonder if he even is mentally present enough to remember his name. "You will tell me, or …" Luster trails off, flinching at his choice of words. There is nothing to threaten Chip with now.

Chip makes a gurgling sound that makes me believe he is chocking on his own blood, but then I notice his smile. "I'm not going to tell you." He is laughing, so hard no he begins to cough. "I –" He coughs more heartily now, until, suddenly, his eyes go blank and his body still. A cannon sounds. My heart hardens, and my body fills with a chill I do not like – a panic that threatens to consume me. I have, for the first time, seen the eyes of a boy who died. I saw the life drain from them, and his body go slack.

It will not be the last time.

"Aw, Luster, you killed him too quick," Mason commented, appearing dissatisfied by Chip's death. "Fawn was right after all." I straighten, stepping away from Chip's body. Let them think that – let them put their attention to blaming Luster. Anything to stop them from seeing the tears in my eyes.

I tear my glance away from Cabel's limp body, looking instead at the blank trees. I see a flash of red against the white trees, like blood on snow. I blink, and stare in the direction of the flash. It is gone. I must have just imagined it.

I shake my head. Things are becoming clear to me now. I was a fool to think that I could play Career. I may have talent with weapons, but it isn't a talent I wished for. It isn't something I enjoy about myself – I hate it. Shyne wasn't even fazed after she killed Barley, but I am being moved to tears by my killing Chip. I can look the part of Career, but I can't play it.

I force the tears away from my eyes and take a deep breath, thinking of home. River… River wouldn't want to see me cry. River would tell me that it's just the Games – it's kill or be killed, and nothing more. I am simply surviving to come back to him.

"That was good advice," October claps me on the shoulder, and I flinch involuntarily. Trying to play it off, I mutter, "You scared me." And shrug off his hand.

"-even if they didn't want to hear it." October finishes, eyes searching mine. He's trying to tell me something, I can tell. What's wrong? He turns away before I can understand.

As we walk back to the Cornucopia, taking the loaf of bread Chip had dropped in his haste back, I sense that I am being watched. I turn my head ever so slightly, to see Gneiss turn her face to the Cornucopia. Of course, I am a threat now. Only two tributes have kills – Shyne and I. And I'm not even a traditional Career trained in their ways.

Have I always been a threat?

I pick up my axe from the snow, where it lies unstained by blood. I could have killed Chip when he was fleeing – I could have done it as easily as I can walk. If I was a true Career, I would have. I take a deep breath. What is my mother thinking now? Is she sorrowed or proud to have raised a potential killer?

I shake myself – I cannot think like this now. My mind is in the clouds, when my surroundings may change any moment. It wouldn't surprise me if a tribute like Tide decided to take me out now, to eliminate a threat, gain a kill, and satisfy the Capitol.

My hand tightens on my axe. No letting my mind drift again. I have killed once now, and it's good that it has been done. Now I can proceed without worry. I push away Chip's face and stare at the small pile of supplies instead.

"There's nothing." I say aloud.

Syren shakes her head. "No, there's more than nothing. There's just … very little."

"Little in the Cornucopia, little in the Bloodbath," Luster mutters, quiet enough so that only I can hear. "It makes for an interesting Game."

"The cost of sponsor gifts will be lower than usual," Mason says. "because there's so little in the Cornucopia." I almost ask how he knows before I remember – they are trained for this. They'll know every bit of statistical information they can – anything that will give them an edge. All the same, the information is comforting. Maybe Blight is working out getting me some knives now.

There are two small backpacks, and all of the supplies fit in it. There are a handful of hand warmers, some dried berries and salted meat strips, two water bottles, and a large tent designed for warmth. In the troop, at least we all had sleeping bags, and a handful of knives to ourselves. Here, we have to fight for weapons, and we all know with one glance at the tent that it won't fit all of us.

Mason and Shyne, who are without weapons, receive the backpacks filled with the supplies. We put the tent up in silence, all wondering what will happen next. The tent proves to be capable of holding only five people – three short of enough.

The sun is at its highest point in its arch by the time we finish. The exhilaration of the "Bloodbath" has worn out, and our blood has cooled. Hands are shoved in pockets, and hoods drawn. Syren and Tide seem to be having the hardest time. District 4 is a tropical paradise, of course. This was seem a wasteland to them.

"Okay," Tide steps forward, assuming the role of leader, which makes every face sour. "First thing's first. We need to figure out who is stealing so that we can stop them. We don't have enough for ourselves, let alone to tolerate stealing." Muttered agreements follow, and I form my face into a blank mask again, to keep my thoughts private.

"It could have been Maze and Raven from 7 and 11," suggests Shyne. Eyes turn to October and I. My face remains impassive. Maze and Raven wouldn't have been stupid enough to steal now, when they will be here at nightfall. My mind runs through the tributes, flicking from face to face. Most are too timid for such a stunt. Then I remember the flash of red – like blood … or like hair. And suddenly, I realize that there is one tribute that is sneaky enough to steal even from the Careers and get away clean.

Mason looks thoughtful. "Or it could be Jet from 6."

"Her district partner, Ryder, has an alliance with Thread from 8." I lie, keeping my face as clear as ever. The Careers' faces do not change. Of course, they would have known this. Thread and Ryder made it clear last night at the Interviews. _Last night?_ It seems years ago, and centuries before that that I was in District 7.

We fall silent, considering the tributes. Finally, Luster says, "Well, we might as well do something as we think. We need a watch for tonight while everyone goes hunting." My stomach twists. I know what kind of hunting he means, and it isn't what I am accustomed to.

"Fawn, Mason, and I will take one group," Tide says quickly, as if to remind Luster that he is self-appointed leader. "Gneiss, Shyne, and you, Luster, will take the other. October and Syren will take the watch." Eyebrows raise throughout the group, and I wait for someone to protest, but it doesn't come.

"And in the meantime?" I ask. I was never a candidate for leader – it was never a position that I desired, and therefore, I may ask questions without fearing another dictating the answer.

"You'll know how to hunt here, won't you Fawn?" Syren asks. I flinch, thinking she means tributes. "No, not that kind of hunting," she says impatiently, rolling her eyes at me.

I smile uncomfortably. "Yes, I do. With knives, I do, anyway. We should make traps, since we don't have many long range weapons." No one disputes this, to my surprise, and we set off into the trees under silent agreement, looking for sticks to make traps from. I notice how we never let each other leave our sights, and how Mason stands next to the Cornucopia stiffly. We glance at him periodically, to make sure he isn't messing with the supplies. There is no trust in the arena. If the Career pack is the safest place to be at the beginning of the Games, why do I feel as though we are about to explode with each passing second?

**~~~BTCS~~~**

_Well…..how's the arena? I think I finally captured the feel that I was going for. Let me know, please, in a review! Because reviews are from the heavens! I love reviews! Reviews make me update faster….._


	18. III BETRAYAL

PART III. GAMES.  
CHAPTER 18. BETRAYAL

_So it's been a while again. We have a new cover, one made by Sade Harlem from . I like this one more. The other was just... not good enough. lol. Um... we get into some deeper stuff in this chapter, and we do end on a bad note. Sorry!_

_I won't hold you up with a forward today, but please review. It really does make my day._

**~BTCS~**

When the sun begins to set, we set off with our hunting parties to search for tributes. Our stomachs are full of white rabbit, caught by my traps. I unflicnching-ly kill rabbits, but as we set off to hunt tributes, I am practically shaking. I can't kill – I let Cabel go, and I missed Chip. I want nothing more than to drop my axe, run away, and find a tall tree to hide in until this game is over.

But I walk forward. Tide is before me, and Mason behind. They do not trust me – and why should they? They didn't trust me before today, and I haven't given them reason to today.

As we walk softly through the snow, my thoughts turn to Maze and October. How are they faring in this arena? They must both be thrilled by the abundance of trees. Does the cold bother them terribly? They are to come to the Cornucopia tonight, and October and I are to join them. What will they do, I wonder, when I am not there? Will they escape with October and leave me to fend for myself? Or…

A twig snaps from behind, and we freeze. Suddenly, I am back in reality. The sun has set, and the wind is picking up. The temperature has dropped. The stars are out.

Tide motions toward the sound, and we creep closer. My heart pounds. _Don't let it be Raven or Maze, _I pray. Then, a thought that is somehow worse: _Not Cabel._

Breath dead, I creep forward, still between Tide and Mason. The latter's fists are clenched nervously, as he has no weapon. Tide's eyes are narrowed almost to a close. I pray they won't see how ready I am to run.

A rustle. Our heads snap in the direction of the sound. Something is coming closer, and fast. Tide slowly pivots around, as if something is about to pounce on him. My heart flies in fear as I turn to face it as well. I grip my axe, my precious lifeline.

Then, suddenly, a new rustling is evident to my ear, following the other noise. Something has joined in on the run. The sounds get closer steadily, quickly. I hold my breath, heart pounding so I can barely hear anything but my heartbeat. Staring into the darkness, wide-eyed, the survival instincts kick in. Suddenly, in my mind, Tide and Mason are my true allies, and whatever is in the trees is a threat. For our survival, it must be killed.

The noises – the threats – continue to come closer. I realize that they are not directly exactly towards us. They will pass slightly to our right. Maybe they don't know that we are here.

"AHHHH!" The scream is terrified, and high pitched, as though in pain. It cuts off abruptly, halted by a cannon in the distance. Mason, with a wild look in his eye, takes off in the direction of the scream. Tide and I hastily follow.

I nearly step on the body before I see it. Stumbling backwards, I utter a small cry. Tide and Mason, who ran right by it, hurry back towards me. Out of the corner of my eye, I see Tide looking around frantically for the attacker, and Mason staring at the body blankly, like me. There is a shocked expression on its face, and its blood is seeping into the snow, illuminated by the starlight.

It is Gneiss.

**~~BTCS~~**

We leave Gneiss's body, taking her coat. She had nothing else to offer us again. I carry the coat as we rush back to the Cornucopia. The attacker (we now assume that Gneiss was running from whomever killed her) has disappeared. Maybe they are watching us now, waiting for the right moment to strike.

Fueled by fear, we are back at the Cornucopia in what feels like minutes. October guards the supplies alone, looking sharply in our direction as we approach. Gneiss was guarding with him tonight. What – or who - lured her away?

"Thank goodness," October says as we draw near. "We were attacked." I notice his sword is stained by blood.

"Who?" Tide's voice is sharp. The Careers being attacked is a very rare thing, especially this early in the Games. The attacker getting away is unheard of.

October doesn't miss a beat, and snarls, "Maze and Raven."

I hold back a cry of despair, staring at his sword. Did he hurt them? Or did he chase away Gneiss and kill her? I feel sick. Gneiss's coat, still warm, seems a heavy burden to me now. I throw it onto the neat pile of supplies with an air of disgust.

"What happened?" Mason's voice is hoarse, and I feel a strike of pity for him. Gneiss may have been competition, but she was from District 2.

October is staring at the coat. "They attacked us when we were talking. Trying to get to the supplies, no doubt. They probably figured that it was the time it would be least guarded." I marvel at the way his gaze doesn't even waver. "Gneiss ran for Maze, but was tripped. I think she pulled Maze down with her." He shrugs slightly. "I lost track of them as I grabbed my sword and lunched for Raven." A dark laugh comes from October's lips. "I think he believed that I was still loyal to him. He seemed surprised when I cut his hand off."

I gasp in surprise, staring at October's bloody sword. Tide throws a suspicious glance at me, and says to October, "Where is his hand, if you cut it off?"

My redheaded ally flinches. "Well, it didn't come all the way off," he concedes. "Nearly, though. If he or Maze don't amputate it, he will likely die from infection." I tear my gaze from the sword and to October's face. _He's lying. _He has to be – there are holes in his story. Only the blood on the sword makes me uneasy. October has shed someone's blood tonight.

"What of Gneiss?" Mason asks, the same frantic energy in his eyes, as if knowing what happened to her will change things somehow.

"After Raven ran (I let him go – I was reluctant to leave the supplies unguarded), I looked around for Gneiss and Maze, but they were gone. I've been alone ever since." He eyes the coat again. "What brings you back so early?"

Tide and Mason don't answer, so I do. "We found Gneiss." Mason flinches. "Well, her body anyway."

October's surprise is genuine. "Gneiss is dead? But… how?"

"We don't know," Tide snaps. "I'd imagine your old friend killed her." The silence crackles with tension.

A moment of silence passes, and then October says calmly, "Fawn and I are as much a part of this alliance as you." He steps slightly closer to me, and I have to fight not to step away from him and his bloody sword. This is my October. He'd never hurt me.

Tide and Mason stare at us a long moment. Finally, Mason nods. "You are. We aren't accusing you of not acting like it." Tide's eyes linger on my face for a long moment, and he doesn't agree.

Mason leaves our circle in silence, going inside the tent. Again, my heart wrings for him. A thrill of fear wells up inside of me. Is Raven dying now, out in the darkness?

Tide stares at the tent a few long moments, and then goes to sit outside it, staring at the ground and the trees, but obviously keeping an eye on October and I. We won't be going hunting any more tonight.

I sit with my back to the Cornucopia, and October does likewise. I stare at the stars. Are they the same stars from District 7? Are my ancestors in the trees and the stars here, in the arena, like they are home?

So sudden that I jump up, the Capitol anthem blares from the peaceful silence. I force myself to sit down quickly, feeling like an idiot. No one's eyes are on me, however, but the sky as the Capitol's seal is projected into the stars.

Gneiss's face appears, and Mason's face appears as well, framed by the tent's opening flaps. Instead of the mighty slabs of rock inside the dual circles, there is Gneiss's face, smiling slightly as though she knows a secret we don't, for just a moment.

Then her face is replaced by Chip's, followed by Barley's, and Angela's. When Angela's face is replaced by the Capitol seal, the anthem blares a flourish, and the sky goes dark.

**~~~BTCS~~~**

The next day, we decide to move camp. Whomever the thief was (and everyone assumes it was Raven and Maze) knows where we are. We will be a much effective threat elsewhere. I am not part of the group that goes to look for a spot, so I wander around the area outside the Cornucopia, checking my traps and dismantling them. There is a squirrel in one, and when I take it back to camp, Syren and Luster start a fire to fry it.

"We won't be able to have a fire at the new camp," Syren comments, warming her hands before the bright flames. "It will be too obvious, if we are trying to hide."

Luster nods in agreement, and I frown. I'm not used to hiding. In the Crescent Moon Troop, we waited for the predators to attack us. After we beat them, there was no need to hide. Everything stayed away from us. "Where do you think they'll set up camp?" I ask.

"Tide mentioned a cave," Luster comments. "I expect they're heading up the mountainside." He motions to a large and impressive mountain that isn't too far from here.

My eyes pop open from where they had lazily closed, lulled by the warmth of the fire. "A cave?"

Luster and Syren exchange a glance, as if surprised by my sudden outburst. "It makes sense," Syren reasons. "Shelter from the elements, a wide view…"

I'm shaking my head fervently. "No. Caves collapse all the time – they are stable one moment, and the next, they come down upon your head. And then there's avalanches that could block the entrance…" I shudder. We were carefully warned about the danger of caves as children.

"We'll just find a stable one," Luster says, returning his gaze to the fire, completely unconcerned. I narrow my eyes at him. I had thought him sensible. How can he ignore the evident danger?

"Fawn," Syren's eyes are placating. "It's just a cave. It will be fine." I settle into an uncomfortable silence, unwilling to tell them just how wrong they are.

We eat the squirrel, and I go for a walk. Syren and Luster obviously trust me much more than my other allies, because they hardly glance at me as I walk away under the green pines.

When I am a safe distance away from the camp, and closer to the great mountain, I climb a tree. The air is clear, and it seems I can see for miles. I stare, blinking. Where are Maze and Raven? Is Raven as badly injured as October claimed? Has he truly lost his hand?

I let out the birdcall we had decided to be our code, and listen to the silence afterwards. Maybe it's just my imagination, but I think I hear it returned to me. I call it again, staring eagerly at the trees. Maze and Raven will come, and we will be together, and we can make a new plan.

I wait for twenty minutes, but my allies do not appear. I let out the birdcall one last time, and come down from the tree. My foot hits the ground, leaving a deep impression, and an idea comes to me. Reaching up, I break a small branch from the tree, praying to my ancestors for forgiveness. I bend down and write carefully in the snow, _Mountain. Tonight?_ I draw an arrow pointing in the direction of the mountain and walk back to the Cornucopia. I can only hope that Maze and Raven will find my message.

When I return to the Cornucopia, the sun is at its arch, and the rest of the Careers have arrived. Luster throws me a relieved glance. There has obviously just been an argument. "She's back." He announces.

Everyone turns to look at me, and I smile slightly. "Just… checking that I'd gotten all of the traps one last time," I say. "Wouldn't want any tributes getting food because I was careless."

I join the group, and eyes look away, except Tide's. He stares at me much longer than etiquette allows, and my heart pounds the whole time, as if he can read my thoughts.

"We found a cave," October tells me. I turn to him, eyebrow raised slightly. "It's not too high up, and it's easy enough to climb to."

I sigh. "I don't think it's safe." I tell him.

October nods, tensely. "I know. Luster and Syren were telling us." I tense, but relax quickly, trying not to show it. That's what the argument had been about?

"What was the decision, then?" I ask.

Before October can answer, Tide says loudly, "We are going to the cave. Only three people are against it." I glance around, looking for the two people supporting me. No one's face changes as I glance at them, and so I look away.

We pick up all of the supplies. I have a backpack containing nearly half of the supplies. Syren has the other, and Mason, October, and Shyne take turns hauling the large dismantled tent. Tide leads the way, unburdened by anything but his own sword.

As we walk through the trees, my heart pounds perhaps stronger than ever. I pray that we will not pass by the note I wrote in the snow, and that we will not run into Raven and Maze. We do not, however, and soon reach the mountain.

October was right. The climb isn't hard. We all manage, and the only person that struggles is the one carrying the tent. Eventually, October, Shyne, and Mason carry the tent together to make the job easier. I let the exercise drain my brain of thought. It is nice, for a short while, to concentrate on nothing but putting one foot in front of the other.

_Boom! _A cannon sounds. We halt in our tracks, glancing around instinctively. My heart pounds, and a horrible thought comes to me unbidden. Was that the cannon announcing the death of Raven?

"Come on." It is Shyne's voice that awakens us all. "Let's get to the cave quick. We're in no shape to fight now." She's right. If someone attacked us, we only have one unburdened fighter. Syren and I might manage well enough, but Mason, October, and Shyne are vulnerable.

The light is getting worse as the sun descends. We hurry recklessly, and soon the sunset turns to twilight. My heart continues to pound. Is Raven dead? Did Maze find my note? Is she following us now?

The cave comes into view suddenly. We rush towards it, the party massing into the entrance. I stand a bit apart from the group, still reluctant to go under the mass of rock. October shoots me a look of annoyance but doesn't comment on my unwillingness to stand near to the cave. I turn slightly, looking the way we came, my heart still pounding. The clouds are massing, pink and purple, against the sky. As I watch, the grow, turning darker. "There's a storm coming," I say suddenly.

"Storm?" Luster is directly behind me, staring over my shoulder. "What does that mean?"

I roll my eyes. It is strange to think that someone with so much training has no idea what a storm means here. "Back home, it means clumps of snow, swirling and blisteringly cold winds, and hard rocks of ice. The sky goes completely dark sometimes from the clouds, like night. Avalanches are common - giant amounts of snow and rock tumbling down the mountains. You never know what to expect - you could be untouched, or killed. And here ... who knows?" There is silence as they absorb my words. I turn slowly to face them. "If there is an avalanche, the cave will be blocked."

A hint of my fear appears in their eyes. "It's too late now." Tide says. "We're here, and the storm is coming. If there will be ice falling from the sky, we can't exactly stay outside. We have no place to go but here." He motions inside the cave, and they trudge in slowly, casting dark looks at the coming storm. I remain outside, convinced of our doom should we go in.

A bird, a mockingjay, perhaps, twitters in the difference. I narrow my eyes a moment. All the birds should be quiet, hiding in their hidden places. The birds that can survive in this terrain, even in a Gamemaker's version of it, have sense enough to hide when they see a bird coming in. The sound comes again, and my body goes stiff with recognition.

"Fawn?" I turn slowly, startled by the voice. October is at the entrance of the cave, staring at me. I meet his eyes, trying to unravel the mystery inside of them. "Fawn, you... I..." He shakes himself, blinking rapidly. "You should really come inside, especially if it is as dangerous as you say."

I can't break eye contact with him. There is something extremely deep in his eyes."About Raven, October..." Before I can say anymore, there is a soft thumping noise behind me. I spin, thinking that Raven and Maze are there, watching us. But it is only a silver package, trailed by a silver parachute. "It's a sponsor gift." I whisper.

"What is it?" October doesn't move, and I realize that he expects me to take it. "It's yours," he insists. "it landed by you."

I nod in silent agreement, and walk, half trembling towards the package. If it is what I hope it is... my entire odds in these Games might be changed. I open it slowly, not daring to hope. "October!" I cry, a smile breaking over my face. I hardly notice as the flakes begin to fall, thick and heavy, upon my hair.

"What is it?" October says for the second time, rushing over to me. His hand hovers awkwardly beside me as he crouches down.

"Knives, October!" I am grinning uncontrollably, picking one of them up and turning it over in my hand. It is a deep brown, a wood that I can quickly identify as mahogany. It's blade is long and smooth and on both sides of the knife. "Knives!" I am pulling them out quickly now, ignoring how the flakes are now piling on top of each other. I count them slowly, once, and then again. The bottom of the pile covers the twelfth by the time I get to it. "There's twelve, October! Twelve!"

He smiles and laughs, and for a moment, I pretend that he is River for a moment, warm by my side and ready to sweep me into his arms... For a moment, we are silent, staring at my knives. Then I shake myself and look up. The light is already dimming, and the snow flurries are speeding. "We should go in," October says quietly

I nod, cringing at the knowledge that the cave was my only refuge. Carefully, I gather the knives into my hands. A glance into the box shows me that the sponsors included one more gift: a pristine white knife belt. I clip it on quickly, putting the knives gingerly in each of the pockets. Then I accept October's hand, and he helps me up. A chilly wind pushes us towards the ledge, and we hover for a moment, near falling. When it lets off slightly, we exchange a look and hurry inside the cave.

"Where did you get those?" Syren's voice is sharp, and I freeze, remembering our argument over knives, back during training. Her eyes glint dangerously, and I understand that the stress of the storm has forced all fake pleasantries away. The only difference between now and the argument during training is that now she can kill me.

I meet her gaze, trying to keep an air of calm, though I am privately imagining the ceiling collapsing on us. "They were a gift," I say. "from a sponsor. They came right as you all went in." I can hear the sound of the hail beginning, the heavy blocks of ice hitting the stone of the mountain we are inside. I want to close my eyes and simply listen. I want to have a warning if we are going to be trapped or worse.

"Good," Syren says, with a smile full of venom. "I've been wanting knives."

She advances towards me suddenly, and I make eye contact with her, backing up slowly. My mind instinctively tunes into her every movement, noting how she clenches her fist, the other hand curled tightly around her dagger. My breaths quicken, as I stare at her, trying to formulate a plan. I'm having a hard time processing her transformation. Just this morning she was pleading with me, telling me not to worry about the cave, and now... now she was going to kill me?

I put my hands up in a surrendering gesture, trying to ignore the fact that I have twelve knives and an axe on me, and that I am currently the best armed Career in the lot. "Syren," I say quietly. "you're not thinking this through. Just put the dagger down."

"Oh, I'm thinking." She throws back her head and laughs, the same laugh that she laughed when we were joking around the campfire only this morning. It gives me chills now, to know that I thought myself so safe, when I am so near death now. I can feel it - the heavy shroud of death is coming near to me, ready to envelope me and steal my breath.

Syren glances at the other Careers, as though obtaining permission. They all wear blank faces. October looks strained, but even he doesn't step forward to stop the girl from District 4. "We have been planning this moment." Syren hisses at me, her smile vicious and with a feline snarl. How had I not seen this before now? How had I thought I could become a true Career, even if for only a while?

"What do you mean?" I'm stalling, trying to buy myself time. I think that I hear the rocks sliding a bit, and my eyes widen. I glance back towards the entrance. Going into the storm isn't a sensible option, but what else can I do?

A grim smile passes between the Careers, and all I can do is shift my gaze to October's face. He knew about this? Suddenly, it makes sense - his guilty looks, Career-like attitude, and unfinished sentence outside of the cave. I'd thought that it was all an act until we could get to Maze and Raven. Raven... with horror I think of the blood on the sword. October couldn't have possibly... he couldn't have actually...

"Piecing it all together, are you?" asked Syren. I am shaking as I draw two knives from my belt. I'm not going down without a fight. Taking a deep breath, I attempt to steady my hand. I can't throw as nervous as I am. "From the start, we knew that you couldn't live. With you in the alliance... we could keep an eye on you."

I look at October, still backing up, trying to buy myself more time. "You knew." There is no hiding the hurt in my voice, the way that it cracks on the last syllable. His face clouds with that same guilt again, and I can't even bear to look at him. "You... all of you... you set me up." I'm almost to the opening now - only nine or so more yards are between me and the large hail.

Syren rolls her eyes at me. "So naive, even now, so close to death." She twirls her dagger around for a moment. "Really, Fawn, I expected more."

I can't help it. Anger wells inside of me, and I think again of home, of Creta and Aria, my troop and River, my mother and Web. They are all watching me, breathless already. Has my mother forced Creta and Aria away yet, sent them running back to our shack? "All I have to do is throw this knife, Syren, and you're dead," I say, in a low voice. "You've seen me throw. I won't miss. And you're too close to jump aside."

Syren stops walking, and I follow suit. "You could kill me," she sneers, her body proud, but eyes panicking. "but you'd be dead in the next instant." She's right. The Careers have all gotten up and are standing a short distance behind her, weapons at the ready. Even October holds his sword tight in his hand. My heart is racing. I have to sprint for it. I have no choice.

I am tensing my muscles to do it when we all hear the noise - the bird call coming from the middle of the hailstorm. My eyes meet October's, and my heart races. _Don't do it. Don't give them away, too. _

"What was that?" Tide demands, staring at me. I don't glance at him. There's that deep thing in October's eyes again, and I can't look away. _Please, please, at least spare them, _I beg him silently.

October breaks the eye contact, looking guiltily at the floor once more. "It's the signal," he says quietly. "that Maze, Raven, Fawn, and I set up. Apparently... apparently Fawn's allegiance never left them."

"If you had any sense, you'd have done the same!" I scream, lurching forward to stab Syren with my knife. The force of it pushes her to the floor. I glance up just in time to see the shocked faces of the Careers. I aim at one of them randomly, throwing the knife blindly, and run without caring to see if it hit its mark.

I sprint through the snow, daring to let out the bird call once, loudly. The world is a swirling white mass, a complete mess. I let it out again, and listen for it to be returned. It's hard to hear anything in the whistling wind. I glance down at my hand and immediately regret it. My hand is damp with Syren's dark, crimson blood. Biting my lip and looking away, I fill my lungs with air and scream, hoping to the stars that Maze and Raven will be able to hear me.

There is a rumbling sound, and I stop running suddenly, staring in the white darkness to where it came from. Realization fills me. I realize what I have done. As the rumbling grows louder, I hear a shrieking sound joining the wind. It isn't until I am running again that I realize it is my own scream.

I run down the mountain, all thoughts of Maze, Raven, and the Careers gone. I am driven by the simple primal instinct: survival. The world is white and black, and all that matters is stumbling from ledge to ledge. I fall several times, each time the blood on my hand marking the snow, leaving it red. But it doesn't leave my hand, no matter how panicked I become. The wind around me is howling, screaming with me. I can hear the rumble behind me, snow falling down the mountainside.

Suddenly, the ground is gone before me. I slide to a halt at the very last moment, looking back to see if I can see the avalanche coming towards me. But there is only black and white, and it is impossible to tell anything from anything else. I stare down at the ledge. How far down is the drop? The white steals all senses of perception. How am I to tell?

"Fawn!" I stare at the ledge, and my eyes dart around, looking for an alternative. "Fawn!" With dread, I realize that I need to head back up the mountain, back towards the avalanche. "FAWN!"

I spin, hearing the sound of my name, but see nothing but white and black. "Fawn!" Caution runs through me quickly. It is impossible to identify the voice with the whistling wind. It could be a Career.

Drawing a knife, I walk until my back is against a slab of rock. The rumbling is getting louder. I can't go back up the mountain now. I just have to hope that whoever is calling my name will not find me, and that the rock will be protection enough from the avalanche. "Fawn!"

The rumbling is so strong now that my feet are bouncing off of the ground. I have to hold the knife carefully, for fear of stabbing my own face. "Fawn!" the cry is desperate, and the face appears suddenly, lost in a second in the white.

"Maze," I tell myself quietly. The avalanche is almost here. "Maze!" I cry, desperate as well. "Maze, I'm here! Over here, Maze!" I'm too terrified to leave my rock, but her face appears again for a second, and I think that she is coming closer to me. "Maze, here!" I can see her now, smiling in relief. Raven is not with her. She must have left him, as I had earlier thought.

"Fawn!" she calls to me, hurrying to join me at the rock.

"Maze!" relief is breaking in my chest. I found Maze. No Career was following me. We might survive pressed behind this rock. I am beginning to smile when I see him, directly behind Maze, with his sword in his hand. "MAZE!" I scream in terror, holding my knife in my numb fingers and taking aim. "MAZE, DUCK!"

Her eyes cloud, not understanding, but she doesn't hesitate to dive towards the ground. The ice carries her out of the range of the sword, and the attacker wails in anger. I meet his eyes, and the betrayal and anger fill me again. My grip tightens on the knife. Maze, crawling quickly towards me, glances from my knife to the attacker. "Fawn, don't!" her voice is constricted, panicking. "Don't, Fawn, don't!"

I ignore her, taking aim, but before I can throw the knife, the avalanche is upon us. Maze screams as I pull her towards me and the rock. She screams as October plummets over the edge of the chasm, into the avalanche.

**~~~~BTCS~~~~**

_:0_

_review!_


End file.
